Blood Pact
by TiTivillus
Summary: "Feel that?" Benny whispered against the shell of Sam's ear, sending a violent shiver down the man's spine. "Feel the way your heart's trying to punch its way out of your chest? That's what dying feels like. And you better get used to it." Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean, season!8
1. Relapse

**Title:** Blood Pact

**Summary:** _"Feel that?" Benny whispered against the shell of Sam's ear, sending a violent shiver down the man's spine. "Feel the way your heart's trying to punch its way out of your chest? That's what dying feels like. And you better get used to it." Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean, season!8_

**Warnings: **Rated T for bad language, violence and graphic descriptions of blood loss and other injuries.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or any characters occurring in the show. The idea for this story was based on another awesome prompt of the OhSam!Community by an anonymous user. I will not post the prompt here due to spoilers, but if you want to read it, don't hesitate to PM me for the link ;) Credit for the amazing art work goes to Melli on DeviantArt.

**Author's notes: **So I plan to wrap up two of my current WIPs within the next few weeks and want to start a new project I've had in mind for a while now… I apologize in advance for my portrayal of Benny Lafitte's character and all the Drama/Hurt/Angst that awaits you in this story. Enjoy!

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**Blood Pact**

**Chapter 1**

If somebody had walked up to Sam at age 22 and told him that ten years from then he would be baring his neck to a freaking vampire, he would have told that person very eloquently to go screw themselves.

Because no way in hell was that ever going to happen.

He might not have embraced the hunting life with the same open arms and enthusiasm as his dad and brother had, but Sam was still a Winchester to the core and there were only few shades of grey in the typical black-and-white thinking that came with their job description.

Vampires were bad news. Period.

You faced them with a machete in your hands or not at all and that's why walking into the waiting arms of Benny Lafitte without as much as a freaking toothpick on him for defense, was one of the hardest things Sam ever had to do.

Meeting up with the enemy while completely weaponless and vulnerable, went against every single hunter's instinct Sam had ever possessed and yet here he was, standing on the old wooden docks and wondering if he would ever leave this place breathing.

It was only one thought that kept him moving forward despite the ice cold feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

Dean.

His big brother was the reason why he had decided to do this and Sam knew without a doubt that whatever was awaiting him behind the rusty doors of the navy blue storage building- it would all be worth it for Dean.

Sam took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come before he pushed the heavy wing door open with a protesting creak of its hinges.

It was dark inside and eerily silent, with the only audible noise being the steady sound of waves crashing against nearby rocks and building up the deceptive illusion of serenity.

But Sam wasn't beguiled into the feeling of safety.

After all, chances were high he wouldn't make it out of the docks in one piece after his dreaded encounter with the vampire.

The door fell into lock behind Sam with a rusty squeak, immersing him in complete darkness and he flinched at the sound, heart beating a mile a minute in his chest.

His mouth was dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth and his breathing sounded too loud to his own ears, echoing hauntingly through the darkness.

"Benny?" he asked, taking a hesitant step forward.

The bulbs flickered and a life-long instinct had Sam's whole body tensing up in anticipation.

Fluorescent light came to life with an electric crackle, blinding him after so much darkness and causing him to blink back tears.

And there- right behind the veil of salty pearls that clouded his vision was Benny Lafitte, clad in a battered navy coat and looking ten kinds of smug with a wayward smile on his lips.

Sam's jaw muscle twitched.

He didn't move.

"Look what the cat dragged in…" Benny drawled out in a boyish lilt, stepping towards Sam with his hands tucked inside his coat pockets, broad-shouldered and relaxed, none of Sam's own unease reflected in the other man's posture or expression.

Why would he be nervous, after all? It wasn't like Sam would stand a chance against the bulky man in a fight- Benny easily outmatched him in both, physical strength and agility given the fact that he was no longer a human being with physical restraints like himself.

Sam took an involuntary step back at the vampire's approach, feeling eerily aware of the fact that he was completely defenseless without any type of weapon on his body. Not for the first time that night, he found himself wondering if he was going to walk away from this encounter alive.

And not for the first time he wished he had given Dean more than a hastily written note in goodbye. He didn't want for Dean to remember him by a poorly fabricated lie on a coffee-stained Post-it note. He didn't want the last words he had ever spoken to his brother's face to be the heated ones of another unnecessary fight they'd had the night before.

He didn't want to die by the hands of somebody Dean considered a friend… a brother even without him ever finding out the truth about who Benny really was.

The vampire must have noticed Sam's discomfort over their whole situation because the easy smile on his lips spread into a self-satisfied grin.

He was reveling in the fact that he was in a clear advantage position here, without having the least bit of worry that Sam wouldn't rise up to the bait.

"Scared?" the vampire snickered, coming to a halt right before Sam, his eyes glinting like a predator's before landing the killing blow. "Now what could you possibly be scared of, Sammy?"

"Don't." Sam's voice was low and deadly. He held Benny's gaze with unyielding defiance, the unspoken threat behind his words laid out right there in the tension-filled air between them.

"Oh that's right," Benny leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Big bro's the only one who gets to use that little pet name on you, isn't he?"

Damn right, he is.

Sam's jaw clenched hard enough to hurt, teeth grinding together and tendons bulging beneath the skin on his neck.

Benny's gaze dropped down to his jugular vein as if he was eyeing his next meal, tip of his tongue flicking over calloused lips and Sam swallowed against the urge to attack or run or do something- anything to get him out of this impossible situation- out from beneath Benny's crushing thumb of extortion.

He didn't move, however, didn't even blink when Benny bowed forward to whisper conspiratorially against his ear. "Shame he doesn't actually call you that anymore, now that your relationship's gone to shit…I take it big brother wasn't too keen on hearing about your little fairy tale romance and about how you couldn't be bothered to look for him?"

"Shut up," Sam snapped, nostrils flaring.

"Can't stomach the truth, my friend?" Benny mocked, bushy eyebrows drawn up to the hairline where they were partly shadowed by the worn-out cap sitting on his head. "Must be hard to have the only person you still care about shut you out like that for a crime you haven't even committed… Tell me, Sammy- what was it like to see the crushed look on Dean's face after you told him that playing house was more important to you than saving his life?"

Sam balled his fingers into fists and resisted the urge to wipe the vampire's smug expression from his face. He pressed his lips together and took several deep breaths, trying to quell the mounting anger that clawed at his throat and stomach, threatening to swallow him whole.

Yes, it had been one worst lies he's ever uttered- telling Dean about how he'd fallen in love with Amelia and started a life of his own when in reality he had been a broken, pathetic mess of a man- desperate enough to conspire with monsters in order to bring his brother back.

And the look on Dean's face… the expression of pure disbelief and insurmountable pain over having been abandoned and discarded like that by the single most important person he still had left on this earth- it had driven a blunt stake of pain and guilt through Sam's heart.

Of course, he had been looking for a way to get Dean back (how could his brother ever believe anything else?!) and he had found one, too. But like everything in life- getting his brother back from the depths of purgatory had come at a cost.

And now the time had come to finally pay his dues...

"Look," Sam forced out from behind his clenched teeth. "I've come here to keep my end of our deal, not to fight. Let's just get this over with, alright?"

Benny chuckled softly, taking a step back. "My my… aren't you impatient? And here I was thinking you enjoyed our little talk..."

Sam mulishly averted the vampire's gaze as he stepped forward, marching past Benny to the center of the empty storage hall where a single wooden chair had been conveniently placed beneath one of the light bulbs.

He pulled out of his jacket and flannel shirt almost mechanically, stopping only when he was clad in a plain T-shirt and jeans. "That enough?" he asked without looking up at his opponent, feeling oddly small and vulnerable beneath the vampire's piercing gaze.

Benny rounded him like a cat stalking a trapped mouse, purposefully dragging the moment out to revel in Sam's submissiveness. "That'll do..."

Sam bit his lower lip and sat down on the edge of the chair, closing his eyes on a shaky exhale.

You're doing this for Dean… he reminded himself when rising panic bubbled up in his chest.

"Look at me," Benny demanded and Sam forced his eyelids to open again. "Can't have you checking out on the fun part, Sammy…"

The vampire winked at him, before crouching down to pull a handful of empty glass vials and a bag of needles from his duffel bag on the ground, and spreading the items out on the wooden floor boards.

"It's Sam," the younger Winchester brother stubbornly insisted, trying to hide his obvious unease at the sight of the items Benny had displayed in front of him and instinctively flexing the muscles in his arm when the vampire picked one of the nasty looking needles from the ground for closer inspection.

"So," Sam started gruffly, attempting at conversation to draw the inevitable out for just a little while longer. "How much blood are you going to draw?"

Benny shrugged, straightening up with a mildly amused expression on his face. "Enough to last me a couple of days…"

Sam snorted in disbelief, not understanding the vampire's reasoning. "So what? You went through all that trouble of getting Dean out of Purgatory just so you can have a couple of days' worth of blood from me and that's it?"

Benny grabbed Sam's right arm and straightened it out on the wooden armrest next to them, tapping the vein with his index finger like a doctor preparing for a blood test. His lips were stretched thin over white teeth when he met Sam's gaze with a predatory glimmer.

"You really think I'm gonna be done with you after today, Sammy boy?"

Sam tensed, mouth going dry.

"What do you mean?"

Benny grabbed a tourniquet from the ground and wrapped it around Sam's biceps- just above his elbow, pulling the rubber fabric tight with a sharp tug and causing him to wince in pain.

"Benny, what the hell are you talking about—" Sam hissed, trying to get up from his chair only to get shoved back into the seat viciously by one very-pissed-off-looking vampire.

"Stay," the man ordered in a dangerously low tone that sent a shiver of ice cold fear through Sam's body.

"You don't get up from this goddamn' seat or I'll strap you down to it, understood? We have a deal you and me, and I intend to get what you promised me in return for your brother's life, Sam. So you better not be trying to back-stab me, or I'll tear your throat out right here and drop your dried-out body into the ocean."

Sam swallowed, bile rising in his throat at the imagery. His face grew pale and he found himself unmoving and still beneath the vampire's deadly glower, pinned to the seat by the force of his threat.

"You said my blood in exchange for Dean's life," Sam recalled the words that had sealed their deal almost one year ago to the date.

A blood pact to rescue his brother from Purgatory.

Because desperate times called for desperate measures.

And because the Winchester's didn't know how to learn from their own mistakes.

"You said you wanted my blood," he repeated insistently- searching the vampire's evil glare for a sign of betrayal, because while Sam was willing to give his own life, he had thought that this whole ordeal would be over after today. No matter the outcome.

"And I'm gonna get it…" Benny smiled victoriously down at him, pulling a needle from its wrapper and studying it in the artificial shine of the light bulb that was swinging over their heads.

"But I don't remember having said that this was a one-time-thing. It's not exactly like I can take all your blood at once now, is it?"

Benny chuckled and Sam felt sick all of a sudden, head spinning with the overwhelming surge of anger and helplessness that was rising up inside of him. He clenched his fingers, chest heaving as he tried to get his pulse under control, because how could he have been stupid enough to trust a monster's word? Again?!

Once again, his life had been manipulated, betrayed and orchestrated by evil.

Once again, he'd handed over the control of his body to somebody with cruel intentions.

"How long?" was all he could force out from his trembling lips, even when he felt like screaming inside. "How long until we're done?"

Benny shrugged, threading the needle into its holder and inserting the blood collection tube with practiced ease.

Sam forced himself not to think about how often Benny had gone through the motions- of how many other poor bastards the vampire had drained before him.

"As long as you last," Benny explained calmly, grasping Sam's arm again and pinching the skin of the area he planned to puncture.

The vampire looked up at Sam with hooded lids, tongue tracing the corner of his lips.

"You'll be my personal lap dog, Sammy. My blood dispenser. And you'll come running every damn' time I tell you to for as long as I want, because if you're not—"

Benny inserted the needle without warning, piercing his skin with a forceful stab. "—your brother's gonna go back to where I got him from- and this time, he'll stay there forever."

Sam grunted, squeezing his eyes shut against the sharp sting.

The vials slowly filled with his blood, one by one, until Benny had 10 of them laid out in front of him on the ground and Sam was starting to feel the effect of blood loss.

Sluggishly, Sam wondered how many of these vials could be filled until he would lose consciousness… or until his organs would cease to work properly.

Assuming one of them contained about 20 milliliters and the average adult had about 5,2 liters of blood in his body… roughly calculated that would mean Benny could repeat the whole procedure about 10 times until the blood loss would become a serious problem for him.

Sam felt like throwing up.

"Feel that?" Benny whispered against the shell of Sam's ear, sending a violent shiver down the man's spine. "Feel the way your heart's trying to punch its way out of your chest? That's what dying feels like. And you better get used to it."

Sam did feel it.

And he revolted against the feeling, panicking.

Reaching for the needle that was still inserted beneath his skin, Sam scrambled to get the foreign object out of him with trembling fingers. "Out… get it out—"

Benny grabbed him by the wrists, stilling his movements. "Relax, boy...We're done already."

"Not your fucking boy—" Sam ground out, ripping himself free the second Benny had eased the needle out and loosened the tourniquet.

But as it turned out, getting up so fast was not the best idea.

Feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him, Sam's body started swaying dangerously.

"Easy," Benny reached out to grab him by the back of his neck, but the touch only ended up freaking Sam out even more.

"Get off me!" Sam stumbled back, knocking his hip against the wooden backrest of the chair and nearly toppling over the piece of furniture in the process.

The unwanted momentum was the straw that broke the camel's back and the next second, Sam found himself bowed in half and throwing up whatever little he had eaten the day before.

His stomach was clenched in knots of pain as he started heaving for all he was worth, head pounding and ears ringing with the intensity of it all.

Sam wasn't aware of how much time had passed before he had emptied the contents of his stomach, whole body shaking as cut his eyes over at Benny who was crouched down on the floor, stowing away the vials with blood in his duffel bag.

Without looking up, the vampire rolled a bottle of water his way, letting the plastic slither across the wooden floor. "Drink up, or you'll end up getting dehydrated… "

Sam caught it with his foot before it could roll into the mess he had made, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grimacing.

He pulled his flannel back on with slow and sluggish movements, before bowing down to grab the bottle and uncapping it.

"As if you'd care about whether I'm hydrated or not…" he rinsed the rancid taste from his mouth and spit a mouthful of water to the ground before taking a huge gulp to still his thirst.

Benny straightened up, throwing his duffle over one shoulder. "You're damn' right, I care. My clients expect the best quality… can't sell them damaged goods now, can I?"

"D-damaged…" the words dried up on Sam's tongue, throat constricting almost painfully in the process.

His heart paused as realization began to set in.

Damaged goods.

Clients.

"You mean you don't—"

"What- drink that stuff myself? You think I wanna get poisoned?" Benny laughed throatily and the blood froze to ice in Sam's veins.

The water bottle slid from his grasp, hitting the ground with a loud splash, water spilling everywhere.

It couldn't be.

He must have heard wrong.

"C'mon boy, don't give me that crestfallen look… I gotta admit with the way Dean bragged about you I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet… Don't you think if I'd wanted to drink the blood myself I'd have sucked it right out of your pulsing veins?"

"B-but—" Sam stammered helplessly, trying to make sense of the jumble of thoughts and emotions in his heart and mind.

Benny snickered at the man's disheveled state. "Price's up to 200 bucks per vial- depending on the host's age and a couple of other factors but I'm willing to bet the market value rises when I get the demonic blood of the boy king himself out there in the open…"

Sam shook his head in denial, tears clouding his vision.

"No…" he whispered, feeling his heart clench with an age-old pain deep inside of him.

The eternal darkness that resided within him- the one he had never really been able to wash off- no matter how many times he tried to redeem himself, had once again turned him into a freaky spectacle to be exploited by others.

His blood was still demonic.

Contaminated and dirty enough to even quench a vampire's blood thirst, because he didn't want to get poisoned.

He would never be able to free himself from the curse Azazel had imposed on him.

It would forever haunt him. Forever make him something less than human…

"Sorry," Benny chuckled, looking anything but apologetic as he headed towards the exit of the storage hall. "Quite the bombshell I dropped on ye', huh?"

Benny lightly shook his head in amusement as he grabbed the handle of the door, pushing it halfway open. "Well cheer up a little, Sammy- at least you got Dean back by your side, ey?"

Sam closed his eyes, shuddery breath leaving his lips.

Had he really gotten his brother back?

Because with the way they've been going at it lately... it didn't feel like it.

And even more importantly- at what cost had Dean's life been saved?

What would his brother do if he ever found out that Sam had sold himself out like that- had given his infected, poisonous blood out to a vampire, like a drug dealer supplying addicts with their pills?

Turning around once more Benny shot Sam a meaningful look.

"Come back in 10 days. Your blood cells need the time to regenerate. And keep that arm covered, unless you want big bro to grow suspicious of your little Houdini act."

Sam barely had enough energy left in him to nod, but he somehow pulled himself together enough for that one final act of accordance.

Dean couldn't know of their deal… or else Benny would drag him back to Purgatory.

It was one of the many clauses that Sam had actually been aware of when he had signed the deal- if his brother was ever to find out about their pact, he would be gone just as quickly as he'd come.

And that was obviously out of the question.

"See you soon, Sam," Benny said, walking out the door and slamming it closed behind him.

Completely stunned, Sam didn't realize he was crying until the room was nothing but a blur of tears.

**TBC...**

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_Soooo... what did you think? Please drop me a few lines to tell me if you're up for more! As I said, this will probably become one of my bigger projects (unless you're not interested) and I intend to update regularly. I also happen to have this crazy idea about giving you guys an option at every chapter end about how the storyline should continue... __You can tell me in the reviews which option you would like to see played out in the next chapter and I will go by majority. :) So here's your first choice: _

_**A)** Sam drives back to the bunker and Dean is on edge because of the cryptic note and Sam's spontaneous disappearance. They have a fight until Dean notices his brother's pallor and sluggishness..._

_**B)** Sam intends to drive back to the bunker but is too affected by the blood loss too pay proper attention to the road. He ends up having a minor car crash and reluctantly calls Dean for help..._

_Here we gooo...! :D Please also tell me if you like the idea with the options at all, because if you say it's taking too much away or boring or whatever... I will just pick one option myself and go with it. Thanks for reading, everyone and thanks for the continuous support!_


	2. Fallout

**Blood Pact**  
**Chapter 2**

**Author's notes: **_Hey everyone! :) First off, thank you all sooo much for your support, the amount of responses for this story has absolutely blown my mind! I am taking this as a clear sign to continue with this WIP and also with the "choose-your-own-version" options at the end of each chapter. Last I checked, **Option A** won over B with a strong majority, so here we go... Enjoy!_

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The second Sam opened the door to the bunker he knew he was in trouble.

The whole building was coated in darkness, safe for the soft glow of lights on the map that was taking up half the space in their entrance hall.

The silence was stark and oppressive and Sam's footsteps echoed loudly through the basement as he gripped the steel banister of the staircase and made his slow descent on wobbly legs.

He had made it about halfway down when the lights suddenly came on without him having even been anywhere near the switch, artificial brightness dilating his pupils and causing him to suck in a surprised gulp of air.

Sam's head snapped up on instinct, looking for the source of disturbance, when his foot slipped, missing the next step.

He stumbled, catching himself on the handrail just in time to prevent nose-diving to the ground.

"Smooth," Dean's rough voice cut through the air and Sam's heart stuttered to a halt in his chest.

His brother was standing in the doorway that connected the library with the map room, clad in a worn-out shirt and a pair of his favorite slacks.

To the rest of the world Dean might have seemed perfectly calm with the way he was leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest and face expressionless.

But Sam saw right through the steel facade at the fury that bristled behind the layers of his brother's fake composure.

Dean was pissed.

One a scale of one to ten, Sam would say he had probably pegged the needle well past one hundred.

"Dean…" Sam breathed out, slowly making his way down the stairs.

"So you remember my name, then," Dean shot back, his words laced with sarcasm. "Cause you know- with the way you're slipping out at night and not returning my calls like a premature teenager..."

"Dean—"

"Twelve times, Sam," Dean cut him off, waving his cell phone through the air as if to prove his point. "I called you twelve times and nada. Not even as much as a freaking text to let me know you were okay. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Dean's composure cracked as he unfurled from the door jamb and made a straight line for his brother, face twisted into an angry frown.

Sam took a step back, bumping against the metal balustrade in his instinctive attempt to flee his brother's assessing glare.

He was still feeling shaky and the vicious shivers that wrecked his body were barely obscured from Dean's sight by the several layers of clothing he had put on.

"But I left you a n-note…" Sam stammered, locking and unlocking his jaw in discomfort as his brother came to a stop in front of him.

He felt completely exposed under Dean's gauging stare and began squirming in nervous anticipation, skin prickling beneath the calculating look in his brother's green eyes.

"Yeah that's right, I forgot," Dean bit his lower lip, nodding.

He pulled a crumpled looking piece of paper from his slacks and chucked it at Sam, the younger brother barely fast enough to catch it with fumbling hands.

"A lot of good that did me…Got something to take care of. Back in a few," Dean recited the words on the note and the younger man gulped at the plumpness of his own lies. "Well ain't that helpful, Mr. Cryptic."

Sam flinched at the harshness of Dean's tone.

Granted. Maybe he should have chosen his words more carefully.

He swayed a little and grabbed the banister for support when his legs threatened to turn into Spaghetti. Dean frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam swallowed, paling beneath his brother's skeptical gaze. "Uhm… n-nothing, I just—"

"Just what?" Dean snapped, having apparently run out of patience. "Are you drunk or something?"

"Drunk?" Sam repeated, suppressing the urge to slap himself when the word came out more slurred than anything he had said before.

Because that wasn't exactly going to help his case there.

Dean's eyes narrowed, his verdant orbs flashing with anger.

"So what? You sneaking out of the bunker to get shitfaced now, is that it? So help me god Sam, if I find out that you spent the past seven hours getting drunk in some sleazy bar while I was worrying about your sorry ass—"

"I'm not," Sam intervened, finally able to get a word in edgewise. "I'm not drunk. And I didn't spend my time in a bar, okay?"

He tried to shove past Dean and head for the hallway that lead to their private rooms, but Dean caught him by the shoulder, stopping him. "Not so fast…If you weren't in a bar, then what the hell did you do, Sam?"

Sam.

Not Sammy.

Shame he doesn't actually call you that anymore, now that your relationship's gone to shit.

Benny's words were rushing back to his mind at the dull ache of disappointment Sam felt whenever Dean refused to use the loving nickname he had been so fond of once.

Maybe the vampire had been right.

Maybe their relationship really had gone to shit and there was nothing Sam could do to salvage it.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the stinging sensation of tears, Sam took a deep breath.

"Look, man. Just let it go, alright? I don't wanna fight again."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well that's too bad, cause you won't be going anywhere before you've told me what you were doing these past seven hours."

Sam swallowed at the revelation. Had it really been that long?

He had been forced to stop a couple of times during his drive back, but he hadn't thought it had taken him that much time to get back to the bunker.

Dean's fingers clamped down on Sam's shoulders in warning and the younger man's eyebrows shot up.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Sam asked, body tensing.

Dean's features hardened and he stepped even closer, leaving barely enough room between them to breathe. "You're damn' right it is."

Sam snorted, shaking his head before he ripped his shoulder free from Dean's grasp. "You're not my father, Dean. I think sometimes you're forgetting that."

Those weren't the right words to say.

Sam realized it the second they stumbled past his chapped lips, but by then it was already too late.

Dean's eyes widened with incredulity and there was hurt bleeding into the green orbs like venomous poison.

"Listen man—" Sam tried to apologize, but then the rest of whatever he had wanted to say was reduced to a grunt of pain when Dean's fist caught the underside of his chin.

Sam stumbled back from the force of the blow- his back falling against a metal shelf and nose gushing blood.

His hand shot up to wipe a trail of red from the dip above his mouth and he looked up at his brother with wild eyes.

"I'm not your father?" Dean forced out from behind clenched teeth, face twisted into a violent sneer. "I'm not your fucking father, Sam?!"

Sam flinched when his brother took a step back and cleared the table with an angry swipe of his hands, whiskey glasses shattering on the ground and papers sailing through the air.

Sam swallowed a mouthful of blood and nearly choked on it. "Dean, I didn't mea—"

"Tell me," Dean hissed, grabbing him by the lapels of his brown jacket and slamming him up against the metal shelf with blunt force. Sam's vision was swimming in and out of focus, his brain foggy with pain and blood loss.

"Who was the one who raised you?" Dean ground out and Sam blinked, biting his lower lip.

Dean's breath was coming fast and ragged and his eyes were liquid fury. "Answer me! Who was the one who changed your diapers and fed you and helped you with school work, huh?! Who was the one who made sure you were keeping up with your training and who drove you around to your soccer games and who paid for your lunch and who stepped up for you when you were getting knocked around at school?! Who, Sam?! Who was it?!"

Sam's throat constricted painfully when he tried to swallow around the egg-sized lump that had formed there. His eyes were welling, a single tear breaking free from dark lashes.

He hadn't wanted this life.

Hadn't wanted to grow up without a mom and essentially also without a father… had never wanted to be a burden to his brother.

"_You_," Sam forced out in a ragged whisper, feeling as if his heart was ripped in two at the confession. He had always felt guilty for having put so much responsibility on Dean's shoulders when they were still kids. Had always resented their father for putting this pressure on his big brother when Dean had been nothing but a kid himself.

But to hear that very same accusation from his brother's lips, to be faced with the things he always blamed himself for- it was almost too much to bear.

Dean's jaw muscle ticked and he leaned in close, hovering over Sam like somebody that meant him harm- like an enemy that wanted to kill him.

"What did you say? I didn't quite catch that..."

Another jostle and Sam felt like throwing up again, face draining from any remaining color at getting manhandled like that.

"You," he choked out, hating their lives and their father and most of all himself for all the things he had never really held any control over in the first place. "It was you."

Dean nodded, face tight with emotion and hurt. "Me," he said, voice gruff and lips trembling.

"I'm the one who protected you, who took care of you, who cared about you, even when you turned your back and ran off to school and when you couldn't be bothered to give us a fucking call in four years— I'm the one who was always there for you, no matter how many times you proved that you couldn't care less about this family—"

"Dean, don't—" Sam's breath was hitching now, eyes burning and throat aching.

"I might not be your _dad_, Sam, but if it wasn't for me I'm not so sure you'd have made it through this childhood."

Blunt honesty.

Thrown right into his face.

Sam had wondered many times throughout his life, what their childhood would have looked like if their Mom was still alive, or if their Dad would have been around more often. But he had never dared to imagine a life without his big brother by his side- his only caretaker. His role model and protector and the only person who made him feel safe and loved in a life as dark and somber as theirs.

Maybe if he had known that Dean hated taking care of him that much, he would have packed his things sooner.

"You were my fucking responsibility for our whole lives and I have always taken that seriously, even when you obviously don't share the same sentiment when it comes to saving my ass, but hey? Who ever gave a fuck about me anyways, right?"

Another jibe for not rescuing him from Purgatory. For not caring enough about Dean to want to save him.

Sam feels like he had been hit over the head with the words.

"_Dean_… you know that's not—"

"You are my little brother, Sam. And you will always be my responsibility. Even if you can't stand my guts."

"Dean, man- c'mon—"

"So if you up and disappear without as much as a legit excuse or a word of goodbye, I have a goddamn' right to know where you were, you got me?"

Dean let go of his jacket and Sam slumped almost instantly, legs folding beneath his weight. His head was pounding, blood ringing in his ears and he felt as if every last bit of energy had been drained from his body, making him light-headed and dizzy.

By now he wasn't so sure if the light-headedness was a result of the blood-loss or of the brutality of Dean's words, but it didn't make a difference.

He wanted to tell Dean.

God, he wanted to tell him so badly about what happened.

But he couldn't risk it.

Not with Dean's life on the line.

"No answer?"

Sam swallowed, opening his mouth, but the words were stuck in his throat.

"Fine. Do whatever the hell you want, see if I care," Dean snapped, turning towards the door.

He was going to leave thinking Sam didn't care- that he couldn't be bothered to save his own brother, that he had in fact- never been aware of the sacrifices Dean had made for him- never appreciated what his big brother had done for him.

Never loved Dean the way he had been cherished himself.

But it wasn't true. None of it was.

"Dean, please don't go," he stepped forward, forcing his weary limbs into motion, but the bone-deep exhaustion was wearing him down, causing his steps to falter.

Trying to catch himself on the backrest of a chair, Sam's fingers missed the sturdy wood and he tumbled to the ground, legs folding beneath the weight of his body.

A sharp bolt of pain shot up his spine when he twisted his leg, hip bone taking the brunt of the fall and a choked noise of pain forcing its way from his throat.

"Fuck, Sam…" Dean was there in a flash, by his side, on the ground.

Despite their fight.

Despite everything that had been said and done, Dean was there.

Just like he'd always been there in Sam's life, for every skinned knee and every heart ache and every time their dad hadn't made it home in time. Dean had been there.

Calloused hands were lifting his head from where it was lolling against cool cement and Sam leaned into his brother's touch, craving the tenderness of his brother's fingers against his sweaty skin.

"What the hell man?" Dean scolded, his tone softening despite the meaning of his words.

Sam didn't bother to respond. His sole focus was on the closeness of his brother's body- the way his hands were roaming his chest and legs for broken bones or other injuries.

"Did you hurt yourself? Can't even walk a straight line now without falling to the ground?"

"'m sorry…" Sam winced when Dean's fingers prodded his twisted ankle. He tried to sit up but had to stop because of the stinging pain in his head, hands slipping on the smooth floor.

"Woah, take it easy."

He would have collapsed back to the ground if it wasn't for Dean's hands wrapping around his arms, keeping him upright.

"Not drunk my ass…" Dean groused under his breath and Sam felt his heart sting at the accusation.

He wasn't drunk. Not in the slightest. Just hurt and a little shocky and desperate to keep his brother alive.

_Can't you see, Dean? Can't you see that I'm doing this for you?_

How bad had things turned out to be between them if Dean couldn't even see that he was hurting? That he had just given about a tenth of his blood to a vampire?

That he was about two seconds away from breaking irreparably?

"Think you can stand?" Dean didn't wait for an answer before he settled Sam's arm around his shoulder, straining to pull them both up.

Sam grunted, head sagging forward and sweaty bangs falling into his face. He was panting for air, searing fire lighting up his left leg when he tried to stand on it and nearly toppled over in the process.

"Tendon's stretched. Don't put any weight on it." Dean chided, pulling Sam's limping body towards the hallway that lead to their rooms. Sam barely managed to nod in accordance, his whole mind narrowed down to the task of moving forward when all he really wanted to do was crumble to the floor and sleep until this whole nightmare was over.

To his surprise, Dean led him into his own room- probably because it was closer to them than Sam's room- and guided him over to the bed before gently settling him against the pillows.

Instinctively, Sam's eyelids grew heavy, the combined effect of Dean's physical closeness and the distinct smell of gun oil and curd soap that had seeped into his brother's pillows lulling him to sleep.

"Hey, none of that-" Dean snapped his fingers next to Sam's ear, causing him to blink up in confusion. "Gotta take care of that leg first."

"'kay, Dean…" Sam murmured in a subdued tone and Dean's step faltered on his way to the door- probably about to get the med-kit from their bathroom.

"Sam?"

Sam's throat closed up again. "Yeah."

"Are you feeling okay? I mean... apart from your ankle?"

Maybe he was imagining things, but for a second Dean actually sounded like he cared.

It made the lying even harder.

"'m fine," Sam whispered, closing his eyes. "Just a little tired's all…"

Dean nodded, face morphing from genuinely concerned to the typical mask of indifference.

He knew he was being lied to.

Sam swallowed but said nothing when his brother left the room and returned two minutes later, the med kit and a bottle of water clutched in his hands.

Dean shoved the plastic bottle against his chest, ordering him to drink and Sam gagged, squeezing his eyes shut against the vivid reminder of Benny's little feel-good treat from earlier.

_Drink up, or you'll end up getting dehydrated…_

_My clients expect the best quality… can't sell them damaged goods now, can I?_

_Can't sell damaged goods... damaged goods... damaged-_

"-am?! Sammy, what the hel- oh shit…"

When Sam opened his eyes again, the world around him was tilted and his head was hanging off Dean's memory foam mattress, a fine thread of spittle hanging from his lips as he retched and expelled the contents of his stomach.

Dean's hands were on his neck, his brother's deep voice rasping out reassurances he didn't deserve.

He spit a glob of yellowish spit to the ground and heard Dean swear under his breath.

Bile.

He could taste the bitter tang on the back of his tongue, burning in his throat.

There was nothing else left for him to expel.

No energy left to lift himself up.

"Hey, woah, woah… easy, man. Take it easy," Dean's hands shot out to steady him when Sam threatened to slip from the mattress and fall into the mess he had made.

"Sorry… 'm sorry, Dean."

It seemed like his whole world was narrowed down to his brother. He just wanted Dean to know the truth, wanted them to be brothers again.

Dean's arm wrapped around his middle, carefully- so as not to jar his sensitive stomach- and guided him back into a comfortable position on the bed.

"I d-didn't mean—"

"You're sorry, I get it, dude… just relax okay?" Dean's voice and features had softened now and there was more concern in his gaze than resentment.

It still somehow felt like a loss to Sam.

Dean wrapped Sam's ankle up with cold precision, taking care not to hurt him in the process. The whole procedure didn't take more than five minutes and the silence in the room wasn't outright uncomfortable, just… unusual.

They used to joke around a lot when they were younger. And even as they grew older and the world around them grew more sinister, they had always talked to each other, communicated- even without words.

This oppressive-silence-thing was new.

Sam hated it.

He hated the fact that yet another monster had managed to drive a wedge into the relationship he shared with his brother.

"You're all done…" Dean's gruff voice pulled him out of his trance-like thoughts. "Guess I'll go crash in the living room."

Sam's heart jumped to his throat at the prospect of Dean leaving.

With his last remaining strength, he reached out for Dean's shirt and wrapped his clammy fingers around the worn-out fabric of his big brother's flannel.

"Stay…?"

Dean sighed.

He looked reluctant.

It hurt more than anything he could have ever imagined having his brother hesitating when Sam was outright asking for something he needed. Especially when it was something as basic as Dean's presence.

Eyes filling once again, he suddenly felt stupid for asking Dean for something he apparently was no longer ready to give.

Because Dean had never denied him contact before, when it was craved. Not when they fought. Not after Ruby... Never.

"You don't have to- I- I'm sorry- I—"

He let go of Dean's shirt as if he'd been burnt by it.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face.

He looked he was carrying the whole world on his shoulders and maybe that comparison wasn't so far off.

"Jesus, Sam stop apologizing," Dean breathed out, pulling a seat up to the bed and plopping down into it.

The knot in Sam's stomach started to uncoil.

"Thanks…thank you."

A lifetime ago, Dean would have lightly hit Sam up the head for thanking him for something as essential as this.

Not anymore.

Dean looked into Sam's brimming eyes, trying to find an answer for his questions in the pools of sorrow and finding none.

"What happened in the seven hours you were gone, Sammy?"

Sammy.

His heart.

His stupid, frail, damaged heart.

Sam felt it splinter in a million pieces.

This- right there… he hadn't noticed how much he had missed hearing it before Dean stopped saying it altogether.

But there it was.

Laid out in the open like a peace offering.

C'mon Sammy. I'm your big brother, there's nothing you can't tell me. I know something's up. I'll make it alright, I promise.

And Sam wanted to, needed to tell him- the urge to make things alright between them almost overcoming his rationality.

But there was this other voice in the back of his mind- resurfacing memories he had been locking away in the dustiest corners of his brain.

"Tell him about it and he's gone before you're finished talking. One. Single. Word. And I will make sure it was the last thing you've ever spoken to his face," Benny's breath had ghosted against his ear, causing horror to seep into Sam's bones. "Your choice, chief… make it count."

"Nothing happened," Sam forced out, watching the expected disappointment wash over Dean's features like some kind of sick self-punishment.

He wanted to curl up and die but instead he forced his mouth to open, driving his hurtful lies home. "Nothing you should be concerned about."

Because even if Dean hated him for it- his brother could never know about the deal between him and Benny.

Could never know what happened today.

Could never know about what was going to happen in ten days.

And the ten days after that.

Because no matter how much it hurt Sam to do this to Dean, he would do it a thousand times over if it meant his brother would remain topsides.

There was a second of tense silence and Sam already knew what was coming next- could see the glimmer of anger in his brother's eyes from where he was lying in bed.

"You know what," Dean snapped, getting up from the chair by Sam's bed. "I'm sure you'll do fine by yourself. I mean it's not like I'm your father, right?"

Sam bit his lower lip and watched Dean leave.

He told himself he deserved that.

Had provoked it, even.

But that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Curling up beneath Dean's blanket, Sam wrapped his arms around his stomach and buried his face in his brother's pillow, taking a deep breath and letting his frantic heartbeat settle into a more even rhythm.

It would be a long couple of weeks before Benny had satisfied his bloodlust on him and Sam had only just started giving blood.

How was he supposed to get through this without completely losing his mind?

When Sam had already nodded off into a light slumber twenty minutes later, he was suddenly roused by the vibrating sound of his cell phone in his discarded jacket on the ground.

Blindly pulling the phone out of the pocket, Sam unlocked the screen and found himself wide awake when he saw Benny's name staring back at him in bold letters.

Dread settled in his stomach like a ton of bricks when Sam opened the text message and started reading.

_Change of plans. Be back in three._  
_Come alone. No weapons._

**TBC...**

* * *

_Here we go guys! Sorry for the long wait, I had a crazy busy week at school and left me without the necessary motivation or energy to complete the second chapter. It turned out a little more heavy on the fighting/drama than I originally intended. Hope you still liked it though. Here's your options for chapter 3:_

_**A)** Benny calls Sam because the blood sold out in less than a day. They will need to shorten the time span between their meetings so that Benny doesn't run out of his supply as quickly. When Sam tries to protest, Benny gets violent in order to get what he wants…_

_**B)** Benny made the mistake of trying a drop of Sam's blood himself and ended up draining a whole vial in the process. Now he's hooked on it and needs Sam to come more often to satisfy his own blood thirst on top of the supply he wants to sell on the streets…_

_Thank you all so much for reading! It really means a lot to see that so many of you like the story so far. Please also drop me a note for this chapter and don't forget to leave your votes for the next update! :D _


	3. Brothers

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 3**

**Author's notes: **_Hey guys! Hope you are all doing well! So once again, **Option A** was picked as the preferred version from the majority, but since a lot of you seemed to have a hard time deciding between the two options, I will be giving a rather similar version to my "Benny gets hooked on Sam's blood" option for the next chapter as well ;) That way, the story might still take that route even though it doesn't yet in this chapter. With that being said, I hope y'all enjoy the new update!_

* * *

Dean hadn't said a word to him in two days.

Whenever they met in one of the countless rooms of the bunker, the older brother wouldn't even meet his gaze, let alone talk to him or acknowledge his presence in any other way.

It was painful to say the least.

So painful in fact, that Sam had considered not leaving his room for the next couple of days just to avoid the awkward run-ins with his brother altogether.

But of course not leaving your room for two consecutive days was easier said and done, especially when you were a living and breathing organism with basic needs such as eating or using the bathroom.

So it was only a matter of time before the whole situation escalated.

Truthfully, he should have seen it coming.

When Sam exited the bathroom on Wednesday evening, feeling clean and awake for the first time in 48 hours, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he came face-to-face with a grim looking big brother.

"You better not have used all of the hot water…" Dean griped -voice gruff and scratchy from lack of use.

His eyes were blood-shot and his stubble more pronounced, with streaks of reddish brown in it.

He looked exhausted.

It was the first thing Dean had said to him since their big fight the other day and Sam was so startled to hear his brother's voice that it took a moment for him to process the words.

"Wha- uh-n-no… I didn't, I just—"

"Great," Dean cut him off, rolling his eyes at Sam's fumbled attempt at talking. He clutched the pile of clothes and his shaving kit a little tighter against his chest and shouldered past Sam into the steaming bathroom without a second glance. "Good talk."

The bathroom door slammed closed, leaving Sam alone and shivering in the dimly lit bunker hallway.

His fingers were shaking where they were clutched around the coarse towel that was wrapped around his waist.

Sam closed his eyes, forcing himself to move towards his room and leaving wet footprints in his wake.

He had hoped that he and Dean would eventually and get past the childish 'I'm pissed at you and letting you feel it'-stage, but maybe it had been naïve to think they would recover so quickly from their latest fight.

After all it wasn't exactly like Sam could come clean about what happened with Benny.

Benny.

Sam had tried to keep the vampire from the forefront of his mind for the greater part of the past two days, but being stuck in a room with little to no distraction hadn't exactly helped him to think happy thoughts.

Change of plans. Be back in three.

The message had been sent to him exactly three days ago.

Today was the day.

Sighing heavily, Sam dropped the soaked towel over the backrest of his desk chair and grabbed a pair of clean boxers from his closet. He pulled them on and stopped midway to getting dressed when something caught his attention.

The needle mark.

It was barely visible now, a mere pinprick in the center of Sam's lower arm right beneath his elbow. A small circle of violet and yellowish bruises had started blossoming around the puncture wound.

Sam brushed his index finger over the spot and bit his lower lip in disgust, a shiver wrecking down his spine at the ghost feeling of getting the blood sucked out of his veins.

He couldn't do it again so soon.

He wouldn't.

Putting on a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie he hadn't worn in quite a while, Sam drove a hand through his soaked strands and brushed them away from his face.

The sweatshirt was black and had a faded Lynyrd Skynyrd print on it.

It had been a hand-me-down from Dean when they were both teenagers, which was ridiculous because Dean had never really outgrown the thing in the first place.

Sam had just loved to borrow the threadbare hoodie from his brother whenever he was coming down with something or feeling sick and at some point Dean had just given it to him, grumbling about thievish little brothers.

To the date, Sam had only ever worn it when he was feeling unwell.

It was like his own personal comfort blanket.

Dean never knew about this, but Sam had even taken the hoodie to Stanford and worn it in these first few weeks when the separation from his family and the urge to break down and call them had almost become too big to resist.

It had been a long time ago, but even now the piece of clothing made him feel safe and comfortable when nothing else could.

Dean was still in the shower when Sam sneaked into his brother's room to nick the keys to the Impala.

He stopped in the doorway when something in the midst of his brother's chaos caught the corner of his eyes.

On Dean's nightstand, right beside a half-finished bottle of whiskey, the dog-eared corner of an old photograph was sticking out from a stack of paper notes.

Tenderly, Sam pulled the picture out and felt his heart constrict at what he saw.

It was a photo of the two of them, heads thrown back in laughter over something Sam held no memory over, eyes crinkled with joy and lips stretched into wide smiles.

Sam had never seen the picture before, couldn't tell for sure how old they were back then or who had taken it, but the one thing he knew with absolute certainty was that the lucky shot had captured them both in a moment of absolute happiness.

Even back then, after having lost their Mom and Dad and so many other good people along the road, Dean and him had been happy.

Because despite all their losses they still had each other.

They still had a reason for living.

They could still enjoy the company of each other and get lost in a moment of brotherly banter or friendly joking.

And now?

Now they could barely stand to look each other in the eye, let alone have a normal conversation.

Sam bit his lower lip and dropped the picture onto the pile of documents strewn across Dean's nightstand, unable to look at the painful reminder of what used to be their lives for even just a second longer.

"What are you doing?"

Sam whirled around at the sound of Dean's voice.

His brother strolled through the doorway in jeans and a navy blue T-shirt, feet bare and hair dripping wet as he dried it off with a towel.

Dean's eyes roamed his body from head to toe and Sam squirmed a little under the scrutiny. The green orbs flashed with badly disguised recognition when they took in the hoodie Sam wore. "Can't believe you still have that ugly thing… You are aware that you look like a creep in that, right?"

'But it's yours…', Sam wanted to protest, feeling the sting of the words. 'And you gave it to me, even though you loved it. That's what you've always done, haven't you, Dean? Giving me everything I ever asked for, trying to shelter me and give me that slice of normal I craved so much- even when you barely had anything to spare?

Idly Sam wondered how many blows his kind-hearted, loving brother must have taken over the years to have reached a point where he was hurt enough to not even want to look at Sam.

"So…" Dean's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. "Seriously. What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing…" Sam forced out hastily, sounding about as genuine as a criminal getting caught red-handed.

Sam could have slapped himself for his answer, but by then it was too late to think of a better response.

Dean's eyebrows shot up in disbelief and anger flickered up in his eyes.

But the expected blow-out never came.

"Right," Dean moved past Sam, throwing his own wet towel into the corner with his crumpled pile of dirty clothes. "So can you go do 'nothing' in your own room then like you did the past two days? I'll call you if I'm in the mood for a few more lies…"

"Dean—" Sam started to protest, feeling helpless in his constant struggle to redeem himself in his brother's eyes.

"Look, I can't say it more plainly than this," Dean explained in a voice that didn't leave any room for arguments. "This is my room. And you have no right to be in here without my say… so I'd appreciate it if you would get lost."

Get lost.

Dean had never told him that before.

Not even when they had been kids and Sam had been his constant shadow, following him around and asking annoying questions and begging Dean to play with him when all his brother was really interested in had been hunting, girls and the Impala.

His big brother had never told him off before, never denied him closeness because they had been mutually dependent on each other for practically their whole lives and that was one big pile of family issues that neither of them was willing to touch with a ten-foot pole.

They had just always lived in each other's pockets, sharing motel rooms and clothes and occasionally even toothbrushes when times were rough (which come to think of really should worry him a little) and the concept of "mine" and "yours" had never been an issue for either of them.

Whatever little they had, they shared.

Period.

Sure, now that they had settled down in the bunker each of them had picked a room to call their own, but so far that had never kept them apart for long.

Most nights were spent drinking in the library or having a spontaneous cookout session in their kitchen or having horror movie marathons with an endless stream of commentaries from Dean's side about all the things the protagonists were doing wrong, because 'C'mon! As if you could kill a freaking werewolf with regular bullets!' and 'You gotta get the head, you idiot! Who the hell tries to kill a zombie by stabbing it in the heart?'

Sam missed these nights.

He missed them so much his heart was aching with it.

Above all he wanted for the two of them to be brothers again- he wanted to talk to Dean and look him in the eye and freaking touch him every now and then without having to feel like he was intruding.

He wanted them to be friends too… best friends, like they used to be.

But right now, getting thrown out of Dean's room like something detestable— it made him feel lonely and strangely incomplete.

Sam buried his hands in his hoodie, subconsciously seeking out the familiar comfort the worn fabric brought him, his eyes fixated on the shotgun that was suspended proudly above Dean's bed just to not have to meet his brother's hateful gaze.

"You're throwing me out? Really, Dean?" he snorted humorlessly, shaking his head. "So what… first we don't talk to each other, then we can't stand to see each other? Where is this supposed to end?"

"You tell me," Dean gave back, shrugging his shoulders. The blank look on his face was unnatural and scary. He looked distant- almost as if he honestly didn't care what happened to them- to their brotherhood. "Or you know what, don't tell me… I really don't care what you're up to these days anyway and even if I wanted to know- it's not exactly like you've been sharing with the class lately. So from now on out you're free to do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want and you won't have to worry that I'll stand in your way."

Sam bit his lower lip, nodding and staring at the ground.

He had to swallow a few times before his voice started working again.

"So what? We go our separate ways now, is that what you're suggesting?"

There was a pause and for a second Sam felt hope bloom in his chest.

It made Dean's answer even more painful.

"I think we already are on our separate ways, Sam. Probably have been for a while now."

"That's not true, Dean."

"Look, I'm kind of in the middle of something, so if you don't mind?"

Sam's open mouth fell closed in a muted half-protest, his fingers balled into fists inside the hoodie.

He wrecked his brain for something to say, anything to make Dean rethink his decision, but his brother's patience had apparently run out already. "I want you to leave. Is that really so fucking hard to understand?"

Sam was stunned by the ice-cold brush-off.

"Dean—"

"Get the hell out, Sam. Don't make me say it a third time."

Sam blinked, feeling the walls close in around him.

This was it.

This wasn't just their random run-off-the-mills sibling fight.

It was something darker and much, much harder to repair.

His brother didn't want him close.

Dean hated him so much he couldn't even look at him.

Sam turned to leave before his brother could see how much his words had affected him, the sound of the door falling closed behind him shattering through the tension-filled silence.

* * *

They met up at quarter to eleven.

Just like last time.

Sam had taken the Impala, flooring the gas pedal on his way to the docks and feeling his heart sink with each mile the tires ate up as he sped down the empty road.

By the time he had reached the warehouse, he had made a promise to himself.

He wasn't going to give Benny the blood without a fight.

Not this time.

If he gave in to the bastard's demand to shorten the time span between their meetings, he wouldn't live to see another month. That much was for freaking sure.

"Sammy-boy! There you are…" Benny exclaimed with a gruff chuckle, spreading his arms in the air in a welcoming motion.

The warehouse was lit by low lamps, leaving his face half-shadow and casting the storage hall into a dim shade of orange.

It made the whole situation seem even more surreal than it already was.

Sam's fingers curled up by his side, jaw clenched so tight his teeth were hurting. He wanted to bash the vampire's head in and be done with the son of a bitch once and for all but his feet were firmly rooted to the dust-covered floor of the warehouse.

"Benny, listen," he started, not in the mood to beat around the bush. "This wasn't part of the deal… I didn't have enough time to recover…"

Benny's grin didn't waver, white teeth flashing between stretched lips. He unfolded from where he was standing in a loose stance beside the chair. "Yeah well, what can I say? Plan's changed. You got a problem with that, Champ?"

The vials were already laid out on the floor in plain view, sitting there and waiting to be filled with his blood. Benny had even put up a little table by the wooden chair- the hated syringe sitting in the middle of the wooden surface, a tube and black tourniquet right next to it.

Sam cringed internally at the sight but didn't make a move to go sit in the chair.

He didn't come here to give blood.

He came to set his boundaries.

"Look," he ground out, barely able to hold it together. "I'm willing to give you what you're asking for, alright? If it means Dean will live, I'll give you however much of my blood you need… but he's already growing suspicious as it is and if we keep going at this rate I'm not sure for how much longer I'll be able to—"

"Are you saying you want to annul our agreement?" Benny challenged, smile vanishing from his lips. He squared his shoulders, straightening up to his full height and Sam swallowed, feeling uncomfortable.

"No," he said. "That's not what I'm saying… just… could we stick with two weeks recovery time…please?"

'Please' wasn't exactly on top of the Winchester vocabulary.

Manly pride and the inability to admit weakness had made sure that the word 'please' was only ever used under exceptional circumstances that called for drastic measures.

Sam guessed that standing in front of a vampire that wanted to drain your blood constituted for 'exceptional circumstances' but he still hated how pathetic it sounded, begging a monster to get some time off.

The mere thought made Sam want to throw up again.

Benny stepped forward, hands crossed behind his back as he moved closer.

"I think ye' don't quite understand the terms and conditions of our agreement, Sammy. Which is sad considering that you were gonna' be some uppity slick-haired lawyer with three degrees and a badge of honor on your back… Maybe you didn't pay that much attention in class, after all…"

Sam's nose wrinkled in contempt. "You're right. I guess I skipped the 'How to be a lying, deceiving, blackmailing asshole'-class…"

"That's funny, Sam," the vampire chuckled without real amusement in his voice.

He leaned in close enough for Sam to start squirming in discomfort, whole body tensing under the vampires piercing glare.

"See,… maybe if you hadn't skipped that class, you'd have never let a demon screw you over… and then maybe you'd have been wise enough not to run into my arms and beg me to save your brother like the miserable, pathetic excuse of the hunter you ar—"

Benny's words were cut off when Sam stormed forward, knocking him to the ground and growling low in his throat.

"Shut up," he hissed, trying lash out and then sucking in a shocked gasp of air when the vampire's elbow caught him in the ribs.

With barely enough time to recover, Sam moved backward just in time to outmaneuver Benny's right hook, sending a punch to the vampire's exposed throat in retaliation.

Benny grunted when the air was sucked from his lungs and Sam saw the exact second the vampire snapped, throwing caution to the wind as he unleashed the monster inside of him and let it loose.

With inhuman speed, Benny's fist caught the underside of Sam's chin, knocking his head to the side and whirling him around until their positions were swapped and Benny was on top of him.

Sam panted, feeling a warm trickle of blood well from his nose. He tried to knock Benny off of him, but the vampire's hands had clamped around his wrists, holding his arms stretched above his head and putting a painful strain on his shoulder.

"Didn't think that one quite through, huh? I'm curious... what were you gonna do once you'd knocked me out? Bail and leave me to drag your brother's soul back to purgatory? Is that what you want? For him to spend eternity in that monster-infested shithole?"

Sam clenched his teeth, writhing and tossing around in Benny's brutal hold.

His squirming was brought to a rapid halt when one of Benny's hands suddenly moved down to clamp around his throat, choking him.

"I asked if that's what you want, Sam," the vampire repeated, leaning down until their noses were almost brushing. Sam's free hand was clawing at Benny's fingers, trying to release the vampire's throttling grip while the other one was still held immobile above his head.

His legs were lashing out, rubber screeching against dirty concrete in his desperate struggle for air.

"Is that what you want me to do?! Kill him and drag him back to where half of the fucking monsters in existence are just waiting to dig their claws into his skin and rip him apart… over and over and over again until nothing's left of him but a pile of frayed and shredded shards?!"

Benny's face was nothing but a blur of colors now and Sam could see stars creeping into the edge of his vision, the fight slowly leaving him as his air supply was being cut off for too long.

He thought of Dean.

And of the photograph he had found on Dean's nightstand.

If this was the end- if he was going to die at the hands of Benny Lafitte right here on the floor of some no-name-warehouse, he hoped that Dean would be able to forgive him and that he would look back onto their shared journey with a pride and fond memories instead of contempt.

But Benny released his throat just in time to keep him alive and conscious.

Sam gasped for air like a stranded fish, coughing and sputtering and desperately trying to suck in much-needed oxygen through his swollen airways.

He was only vaguely aware of the fact that Benny had gotten up from the ground, but the next second the vampire was back with the black tourniquet in his hands, slipping it over Sam's flopping arms

Benny pressed his thumb over the bruising circle around Sam's throat, hard, and Sam flinched back from the touch, whimpering.

"Do you want me to do that or not, Sammy?" Benny's voice was soft, an uncanny calm that could turn any direction.

"N-no…" Sam panted, rasping out the word with more than a little effort.

"No?" Benny smiled devilishly and before Sam got a chance to respond, the vampire had flipped his pliant body over so that he was lying on his stomach. "Well, in that case… we're ready to get down to business, aren't we?"

He grabbed Sam's arms and slipped the tourniquet around both of his lower arms, before tightening the fabric with a sharp pull and cutting off his blood circulation.

Sam made a grunting sound, squirming to free himself from the incapacitating position until Benny grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back far enough to make him feel like his neck was going to snap.

"Keep your ass right there."

Benny smashed Sam's head against the floor for good measure, sending a painful explosion of stars and lights flittering across Sam's vision.

"Gotta say, Sammy-boy, that blood of yours is special for sure… Never seen anythin' like it before."

Sam closed his eyes against his welling frustration, still struggling to catch his breath while Benny's ice-cold fingers started prodding his lower arm for a vein he could tap.

"I got people running my doors in for that shit, they're willing to pay ridiculously high prices."

Sam flinched when the needle pierced his skin and blood started flowing.

It wasn't a painful process but it made him feel weak and humiliated, like a worthless piece of trash car that was taken apart and salvaged until the last valuable pieces would be sold out to the highest bidder on the market.

He pressed his lips together to keep from making his discomfort known when Benny moved to exchange the vials. He wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of letting him know how much he was affected by the vampire's ministrations.

He tried to picture himself somewhere else, mentally blocking the whole situation out until a shrill ringing noise suddenly caught his attention and his eyes flashed open.

Was it his cell phone?

Had he forgotten to mute it on his way here?

Maybe Dean was calling to apologize- to make things right between them.

Sam's heart constricted painfully with yet another flicker of hope that was to be crushed the next second.

Because it was Dean calling.

But he wasn't calling Sam.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't my favorite friend and brother," Benny's gruff voice greeted as he flicked his phone open. "Got somethin' I can help you with, Dean?"

Sam pulse started racing, his face paling, breath going heavy.

This couldn't be happening.

Dean couldn't be on the phone with Benny, chatting it up while Sam was lying a couple of feet away from that asshole, bound and hurting while a blood drainage was slowly sucking the life energy out of him.

"A hunt, huh?" Benny asked into the speaker with fake-interest, meeting Sam's watery eyes over the distance and winking at the younger Winchester with an amused sparkle in his predatory gaze.

He pulled back from the phone to press a button and the next second Dean's voice echoed through the empty storage halls.

"—igured I'd check it out on my own but since I haven't seen you around in so long I thought I'd ring you up and ask if you'd be up for some fun."

Fun.

Hunting wasn't supposed to be fun.

It was the dirty work nobody else wanted to do. It was bloody and brutal and sometimes downright horrifying and how could anybody in their right mind ever call that 'fun'?

"Well, man," Benny softly started, before leaning down to change the vials again. "You know I love me some action every now and then, but what about your brother, huh? I'm willing to bet Sam wouldn't want me to join you guys on a hunt…"

That fucking bastard.

Sam tensed up, gritting his teeth to keep from crying out in a tidal wave of frustration and anger.

How dare this freaking son of a bitch play them like that?!

Every fiber of Sam's being was straining to rip himself free and plunge that goddamn' needle into Benny's eye before confessing everything that had happened to his brother.

It took every single ounce of willpower inside of him to keep from doing just that and to force himself to listen to the rest of the two men's conversation.

"Uhm… no...actually... Sam's- he's not coming with."

Even over the electronic crackle of the phone, Dean's voice sounded hurt and saddened when he talked.

Sam felt a flood of guilt overcome him at the sound of his brother's emotional pain.

He had caused this.

He had spread lies about how he couldn't be bothered to save Dean from Purgatory- he'd made his big brother believe that he hadn't loved him enough to rescue him- to even just spend a second trying to find him.

And this was the consequence.

"It will be just the two of us, Benny. Just like old times, alright?"

Just the two of them…like they had history together.

As if they went way back together.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like something was trying to rip him to shreds from the inside out.

And maybe it was childish to feel jealous over a freaking vampire, but when it boiled down to it, Sam had only ever had his brother and he wasn't going to let anybody take that away from him, least of all a monster.

But Benny wasn't done playing with him- wasn't done tormenting him.

He twisted the knife inside Sam's heart for good measure and drove the pain home.

"Trouble in paradise, ey? Well, I'm sure the two of you're gonna figure it out one way or another. He's your family after all…"

"Yeah…" Dean's voice sounded hollow now.

Hollow and distant.

He was just trying to put an end to the conversation, changing topic, avoiding the hurtful truth that was too terrible to say out loud.

Because apparently, Dean wasn't sure if they were family anymore.

Sam couldn't help it. A tiny sound escaped his lips, his rationality slowly dragged under by the bubbling volcano of emotions inside his chest and the noise echoed sharply through the storage hall, making them both freeze.

_Oh no…_

_Please, no._

_Please don't let him have noticed._

"What was that?" Dean asked and Sam's blood froze to ice in his veins.

Benny's jaw muscle ticked, his whole body unmoving.

In the sudden tension-filled silence, you could have heard the sound of a needle hitting the ground.

"What was what?" Benny played dumb, shooting Sam a dark look in warning. Make another sound, I dare you…

"That noise just now— are you—is somebody there with you?"

_Yes! Yes. I'm here, Dean. I'm here._

Benny grinned and leaned down extract the needle from Sam's vein with painfully slow precision.

No sound escaped Sam's lips this time, but his ears were ringing with the sound of his own sluggish heartbeat and he felt the usual dizziness that came from blood loss set in again.

"Must have imagined that, brother… nobody here but myself to keep me company. Kind of lonely actually, I'm glad you called."

"Yeah well, me too man, it's good to hear your voice."

Good to hear your voice...

Dean had just spent two days of purposefully avoiding any type of conversation with Sam. They hadn't even said 'Good morning' or 'Good night' to each other and it was good to hear Benny's voice...

Benny crouched down low beside Sam and- almost too gently- lifted Sam's blood-smeared chin from the ground, stroking a thumb along the edge of his jaw and digging his index finger into the soft dip of skin below.

Sam brain couldn't help but point out how the movement was mimicking a gun.

"Send me the coordinates and I'll be there to back you up."

"Great. Thanks, Benny," Dean sighed into the receiver from the other end of the line. "I owe you one."

Sam wanted to scream and riot and bash that fucking bastard's face in.

No, you don't owe that bastard anything, Dean.

Backing you up is my job.

Mine, you hear me? I should be the one by your side.

Whatever made you think you could trust that asshole over your own flesh-and-blood brother, huh?!

Benny grinned like a Cheshire Cat, his thumb brushing over Sam's cheek in a mockery of affection.

"Anytime, Dean. That's what brothers are for, right?"

"Right..."

There was a click and the line went dead.

**TBC...**

* * *

_Okay people, thanks for reading! :D Hope you enjoyed the update. I wanted to briefly apologize for not having replied to all of your very generous and humbling reviews. This is mainly due to the fact that I am currently in a lot of stress with classes and exams, but I promise to start being more responsive once the worst of the school stress has blown over! I do however cherish and appreciate all of your support, so thank you for the numerous favs, follows, reviews and PM's!_

_Here's your options for chapter4:_

_**Option A)** Sam is pissed after the phone conversation and tells Benny to stay away from his brother. They start having another fight, but this time Sam's weakened condition is clearly not working in his favor and he gets knocked out pretty soon. A drop of Sam's blood somehow lands on Benny's face and the vampire unwittingly licks his lips..._

_**Option B)** After the fight and the blood loss Sam is too exhausted to drive home on his own and calls Dean for help, telling him he had been robbed by a gang of rowdies. Cue protective/pissed big brother Dean who is ready to rip the punks in half until he finds the puncture wounds on Sam's arm and gets suspicious..._

_So let me know what direction you want for the story to take and I'll be happy to oblige ;) So far this is a lot of fun to write. Please don't forget to drop me a note about how you liked this chapter! :) As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks once again and until next time ;) Cheers!_


	4. Toxic soul

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 4**

**Author's notes: **_I bet you didn't expect to get another chapter so soon ;P Well, what can I say? I was motivated to write more by the amazing feedback and responses I received, so you can thank yourselves for an early update :D **Option B** was chosen for this one. I know there's been a lot of drama and fighting in this story and I apologize beforehand for what's about to come in this chapter (I am aware that you might hate me after you've finished it^^) but you can consider this the slow and painful build-up to what I hope will lead to great brotherly bonding moments and a well-deserved resolution for the boys' Season8-issues. And, yes. There will be hell to pay when Dean finds out. With that being said, off you go. Enjoy! (Oh and btw- I added the angry Sam part of option A as a little extra ;))_

* * *

Sam was livid.

In all his years as a hunter, with all the assholes they'd met on the way, every redneck hunter who wanted to sell them out, every deceiving jerk-angel, every lying, betraying demon they'd been forced to ally with, every blood-thirsty monster they'd ever encountered- he had never hated anyone more than he hated Benny at that moment.

"I want you to stay the hell away from him, you hear me?" He had meant for the words to come off as threatening, but the blood loss had once again left him weak and disoriented, tongue weighing heavy as he white-knuckled the backrest of the chair to support his swaying stance.

He swallowed, hoping his death glare would be enough to convey the threat behind his words.

Benny had started packing his things again, not even looking up to acknowledge Sam's protest as he carefully stowed the vials with his blood away in his duffle.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Sam..." the vampire murmured in a gruff chuckle and Sam was sure he'd explode with the mounting rage that quelled in his chest at Benny's teasing retort.

"You'll call him and blow the thing off," Sam calmly stated, forcing the words out between clenched teeth to hold on to his last thread of composure. "Or you can tell your clients that you're out of fucking business…"

It was the only type of leverage he had against that bastard. But in order for it to fully work, Benny would have to need Sam's blood more than Sam needed to keep his brother safe (which was never going to happen).

But Sam could try to make him believe it, at least.

The threat made Benny's movements falter, bushy eyebrows drawn together into a frown as his gaze started wandering up at where Sam was still leaning against the chair for support.

"Please,…" the vampire grinned. "You and me both know you aren't in any position to make threats here, Sammy. And besides," the vampire got up and shouldered his bag, much like he'd done the first time. "It's not like I'd want to miss out on a team hunt with my favorite brother…"

"No, you listen to me, you sonofabitch," Sam pressed out, breath coming in hard little pants for air. "Dean's only got one brother in this world and that's me. If he ever finds out about any of this?" Sam's eyes glinted with a special kind of anger, lips pulling up into a dangerous smile of his own as he imagined his brother's reaction. "There won't be anything left of you to bury…"

"That right, huh?" Benny challenged, but despite his fake-calm, Sam could easily detect the vampire's fear at the possibility of Dean finding out about their deal.

"Guaranteed," Sam hissed, trying to hold himself together for just a little while longer, before giving in to the bone-deep exhaustion that had settled in his chest. He couldn't show the signs of the blood-loss, couldn't give in to the sensation of the lurking darkness that tried to swallow him whole.

Not yet.

Not before he had made his point.

"There might be 'trouble in paradise'…" Sam cited the vampire's earlier words, snorting disdainfully. "But at the end of the day? Dean's got my back 100 percent. He'd catch a bullet for me and I'd do the same thing for him any given day. No fucking vampire's ever gonna change that, you hear me?" Sam's voice was trembling with the seriousness of the words, with the absolute confidence he had in his statement.

They might not be on speaking terms… they might not even be looking at each other at the moment, but Dean was his family- the only person he had left on the face of this planet. And there was no way in hell he'd let anybody take that from him.

Not without a fight.

Benny watched Sam intently, eyes glinting dangerously from beneath the rim of his blue navy cap. "I wouldn't be so sure about all that, Princess. See, I happen to know that brother of yer's for quite a while now and the things he told me about you in Purgatory…"

Sam's stomach churned.

"…not all too pretty, I'm tellin' you. There's one big pile of unresolved issues between the two of you…enough dirty water under the bridge to last you both a lifetime and I guess your brother's just tired of that," Benny clicked his tongue, visibly proud of himself at the look of hurt disbelief his words had pasted on Sam's pale face.

"He needs someone uncomplicated. Who accepts him the way he is and gives him the freedom to be himself. Someone to treat him as an equal- not some embarrassing freak-show that isn't worth his own weight in salt."

"I never—" Sam started to protest, nostrils flaring in outrage, but the vampire help up a hand tutting him.

"Really, Sam? Think again," Benny chuckled wistfully before winking at Sam in playful amusement.

The bastard knew with absolute certainty that he was in a clear advantage position here, the looming threat of dragging Dean back to Purgatory still hanging over his head like a Damocles sword of bloody promises.

Sam hated him with a passion. His anger was making him irrational and cocky. He couldn't bite his tongue this time.

"You know I got no actual proof that you're able to drag him back down there… None. You could be lying for all I know…"

"I could… but are you willing to risk it?" Benny questioned, raising an eyebrow and Sam locked his teeth to keep from screaming out loud.

He didn't say anything in response.

"Didn't think so," Benny chuckled, straightening the cap on his head.

Goddamn that smug bastard all to hell.

The vampire feasted on his frustration and broke out into complacent laughter pushing the duffle up on his shoulder and heading towards the exit of the warehouse.

As soon as the door fell into lock behind him, Sam knocked the wooden chair over in a burst of anger, kicking at it again and again and again until the piece of furniture was nothing but a pile of broken pieces scattered across the floor.

He was panting, feeling the room swim in and out of focus, distorted walls closing in on him as his chest expanded and caved in a desperate struggle for air.

His head was pounding, his ears were ringing and the swollen airways from Benny's earlier attempt to choke him made it even harder to regain his breath.

Sam might have been weakened and emotionally unstable, but if he knew one thing for sure it was that he couldn't drive back to the bunker in the condition he was in.

He felt completely drained and exhausted- both physically and emotionally and the idea to curl up right here on the floor to let himself delve into never-ending oblivion became more appealing with each passing second.

"Damnit'" Sam ground out, driving shaky hands through his disheveled hair.

He squeezed his eyes shut before for a moment to gather his composure before fumbling for his phone and speed-dialing Dean.

It was time to fabricate another story.

This time it needed to be good.

"So let me get this straight—" Dean's throaty growl came from the other end of the line.

"You stole my car to drive to the docks to go for a walk," he emphasized the word 'walk' as if it was an alien concept. "And now you need me to come get you why, again? I mean what happened, you hit another dog on your way back?!"

Angry words, sharpened like bullets and aiming for the heart.

Dean had always been a wicked shot, never missing his targets.

Sam's fingers curled up in his hoodie, the urge to lash back at Dean in angry defense nearly too big to suppress.

Sometimes he wondered if it was a coincidence that the people you loved the most where also the people who hurt you the most.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking. "I've been jumped."

Sam's pulse was racing, a knot lodged tightly in his throat as he waited for Dean's response. He had meant it when he said to Benny that Dean would always have his back, even when they haven't exactly been cuddly with each other these past few days.

But now that he found himself greeted with silence, his heart started weighing heavier in his chest, thoughts darkening with doubt.

"Jumped?" Dean repeated incredulously and Sam could practically see the frown and raised eyebrow that matched his brother's skeptic tone.

He swallowed. "There… there was a group of rowdies… they caught me unaware. I-I was outnumbered—

It sounded lame, even to his own ears. Because Sam was by no means helpless and the idea that the muscular, well-trained hunter with years of experience was getting banged up by a gang of teenage punks was almost ridiculous.

That's why he needed to press all of Dean's buttons and make him believe.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam breathed. "They had weapons and there were too many of them, I couldn't—"

It must have been one of the worst lies he's ever told.

But it worked.

"Damnit, Sam. Did they hurt you?"

Sam took a moment to revel in his brother's concern. It had been too long since Dean had talked to him with anything but anger and contempt in his voice.

This was his big brother.

The one who would kill and die for him, no questions asked.

The one who loved him, despite everything.

"Sam?!" Dean's frantic voice barked from the phone. "Talk to me. Are you hurt?"

Rustling noises chimed in to Dean's panicked questioning and Sam could hear his brother's hurried movements over the line. Dean was leaving the bunker to come to his rescue- always his knight in shining armor.

Sam released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Nothing life-threatening… look, can you just come here? I'm not up for driving and if they come back—"

"If they are stupid enough to come back after ganging up on you, I'll kick their sorry asses. And then I'll kick yours for taking baby," Dean growled into the phone, sounding out of breath. Sam realized he must have been running- probably trying to find a car to hijack since Sam had taken the Impala. "Do you have a weapon on you at least?"

"Got my 45'," Sam murmured tiredly, leaning back against the leather seat of the Impala and closing his eyes on a shaky exhale. "I'm kind of having trouble breathing… shit Dean, I'm so sorry, I know you're mad at me and I shouldn't be calling but—"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean cut him off, voice a tad stronger now, booking no room for arguments. "Just tell me where you are and I'll be there."

Suck it, Benny, Sam thought.

Score one for me.

Half an hour later Dean arrived in a piece of trash Mercedes that had most definitely seen better days.

Despite the late hour that had dipped everything into a maelstrom of black, Sam could see the outlines of his brother's anger carved in the features of his face as he unfurled from behind the wheel and threw the rusty door closed with a squeak that mimicked the Impala's.

Dean took a look around the area, left, right, checking for potential sources of danger, innocent bystanders, a suitable hide-out for a potential firefight (because Sam had mentioned guns…) and probably a whole lot of other shit that Sam hadn't thought of when he'd first come to this place.

It was a hunting thing.

Always get a clear picture of your surrounding before doing anything else.

It might save your life.

One of their dad's most important lessons- of course Dean would remember, he always did.

Sam had spent the past 30 minutes (or had it been longer?) listening to the mesmerizing sound of the ocean waves cracking against the shore and reciting the things he was gonna tell his brother over and over again in his head.

But the second Dean came into plain view before him, face partly illuminated by the dim shine of the street lamps that fringed the wooden overpass ahead of them, all of Sam's carefully fabricated lies seemed to vanish from his mind and all he wanted to do- as pathetic as it sounded- was to tell his brother the truth about what happened.

Dean ran his palm along the smooth metal of the Impala's hood as if to reassure himself that she was unscathed.

"Glad…you g-got your priorities straight—" Sam snorted with more than a little effort now that the full-fledged aftershock of having lost all that blood had taken effect.

It was meant to be a joke.

But Dean took offense in almost anything these days.

"Shut up. I'm so done being cute with you, man, you don't even know…"

"Being cute?" it was Sam's turn to look incredulous. "You've barely been saying two words to me, these past few days—" Sam's voice faded out as he erupted into a coughing fit. His throat must have dried up again.

It was only when Sam practically folded in half, shoulders shaking with the force of the deep, hacking coughs that wrecked his body that Dean seemed to remember why he had driven here in the first place.

"Alright, what the hell man," Dean blurted out, moving closer and ducking until he was hovering over Sam's curled up form on the passenger side of the Impala's leather bench. "You gonna tell me what happened to you or what?"

Without really waiting for an answer, one of Dean's arms had shot out, fingers lightly grasping Sam's chin and turning his face from side to side.

Sam didn't even try to resist the prodding touches, knowing his brother was only trying to help and secretly enjoying their brief moment of brotherly comfort between them.

"Got any broken bones or puncture wounds?" Dean's thumb swiped across his upper lip, rubbing the dried flakes of blood from his skin and to his utter mortification Sam found himself leaning into the touch, basking in his brother's warmth and loving ministrations.

"No… just- just beat up 'nd tired."

Sam swallowed again, trying to sit up a little straighter on the bench and feeling lightheaded from the movement. His eyelids had started drooping a while ago and it had become gradually harder to them open with each blink of his lashes.

He shifted a little on the leather interior of the Impala, his movements abnormally slow and uncoordinated as he blinked up at Dean with glazed eyes.

"You sure that nose isn't broken?" his big brother inquired, probing fingers lightly palpating the area around his Sam's swollen nose from where he had taken the brunt of Benny's punch. "Looks busted to me."

Sam licked his lips, tasting the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He's had enough experience with broken bones to know that the pain felt different than the one he currently experienced.

He shook his head. "Think it's just jolted… but—" Sam's sentence was once again cut short by a coughing fit and Dean's brow creased in obvious concern when his little brother's frame was shaken by the force of it.

Sam tried to suck in a breath and found himself gagging around a lungful of air.

"Woah. Hey…" Dean called out in a gentle tone, squatting down before his brother's hunched form and lightly cupping Sam's neck before guiding his head forward between his legs.

Sam let himself be pulled forward, bracing both his elbows on his thighs and burying his head in his hands as he tried to fight against the sudden urge to throw up again.

"'m gonna be sick…" he slurred almost drunkenly and Dean remained crouched before him as if the announcement that Sam might be throwing up all over him didn't even concern him.

"You'll be fine, just breathe through it."

Weakly shoving at Dean's chest to get him to step back, Sam started panting, saliva running together in his mouth in a telltale sign that he was going to have to puke.

"Guh…go 'way…Dean, sick—"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, kiddo," Dean soothed, never straying from Sam's side. "Take a deep breath okay? Hang in there, I'll get you some water from the trunk."

Sure enough, Dean was back by his side with a bottle of water the next second and to his ultimate embarrassment, Sam nearly failed at attempting to lift it to his lips. Dean shot him a confused look but didn't hesitate to guide the bottle to Sam's lips and back down again when the ability to drink on his own had seemingly left him. "Easy there, small sips or you're gonna spew."

Sam leaned back against the cool leather of the car and greedily drank from the bottle, feeling the ice cold water slide down his throat and slicking his dry mouth.

It was an instant remedy nervous coughing fits, but unfortunately brought a whole new set of troubles.

"What the hell—" Dean's shocked intake of air had Sam's eyes flying open and staring up to meet his brother's horrified gaze.

It took a moment for him to realize that Dean's eyes were fixated on Sam's throat before realization suddenly hit him like a freight train.

By then it was already too late.

"These fucking bastards," Dean growled out in a dangerous tone, his protective streak coming to sudden life at the sight of the finger-shaped bruising around Sam's neck. He clenched his teeth against the rage that pulsed through him at what had been done to his little brother, wishing he could show these little punks what it meant to mess with his family. "What the hell, Sam? Did these assholes try to choke you?"

There really was no sense in trying to deny it.

So Sam just lowered his gaze and stared off at the glove compartment as he started talking. "I… I uhm got a couple of punches in myself… they got angry and—"

He gestured vaguely at the angry marks that had formed around his swollen and abused throat and Dean looked about ready to run off and go chop the non-existent attackers' heads off for what they had done to his brother.

"Jesus, fuck… Sam, you can't just run off and get into shit like that, I mean what the hell, man? They could have killed you and dropped your dead body into the ocean and I wouldn't even have known where you were—"

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured in a miserable tone and Dean frowned at his brother's heavy, congested breathing.

"Your airways are swollen. Gonna need ice for that to go back down."

Dean's fingers moved up to trace the angry-looking bruises around his little brother's neck and Sam couldn't help but flinch back from the touch with a pained moan.

"Dean…"

"Relax. I'm just having a look, okay?" Dean soothed before pulling the hoodie down to further examine the irritated skin around Sam's throat. After a second of fidgeting with the thick fabric, Dean let out a small growl of frustration. "Alright, you know what? That shit's gotta go, get your arms up."

Sam was startled by his brother's sudden demand. He blinked up at Dean incomprehensible, dark spots dancing at the edge of his vision. "Wha—"

"Arms up," Dean repeated before leaning down to start working on undressing Sam himself. His fingers had already tangled in the hem of Sam's sweatshirt and before the younger Winchester could do anything against it, Dean had lifted both of Sam's arms in the air and struggled to work the hoodie off his uncooperative body.

"Wha- no, stop—" Sam protested, swatting at Dean's hands as soon as his arms were wrenched free from the battered-looking fabric. "Dean stop! 'm not a kid!"

He was left shivering against the cool breeze that drifted into the car from outside in nothing but a faded T-shirt.

And that's when Dean saw it.

Sam noticed his mistake a second too late, the blood-loss making it hard to think straight.

But what a fatal mistake it was.

Dean's eyes widened and Sam swore he saw the blood drain from his brother's face when his verdant eyes caught the pinprick sized needle marks below his elbow.

Time seemed to screech to a staggering halt all around them and even the ocean seemed to stop moving just to give them a shocked moment of silence.

Sam's shaking hand shot out without warning, grasping at Dean's jacket as if it was a lifesaver. "Dean, listen. It's not what you think."

But Dean had already come to his own conclusions about where the needle marks on Sam's arm came back.

The sudden change in his demeanor was about as subtle as a slap to the face.

It's not what you think. Please. Please, don't think that of me, it's not true. I would never… you know I wouldn't...

Sam wanted to scream it all at once, too many words trying to spill from his lips at the same time.

What came out in the end was a garbled sound of raw emotion clawing its way up his throat.

The hoodie was ripped from Sam's limp fingers and thrown across the Impala- onto the backseat, where it slithered across the worn-out leather interior.

Sam sucked in a shocked breath when Dean gripped him by the arms and slammed him up against the backrest of the front seat. They were both shaking, faces only inches apart and Sam couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't breathe…

He got caught up in the look on Dean's face and god, but it was terrible because he had seen his brother in ten kinds of agony before, but that look was going to haunt him forever.

He'd never seen Dean this angry before- his brother's features were laced with disbelief and fury, his eyes glowing a poisonous green that threatened to infect his soul and body.

"Tell me you didn't," his brother hissed, tiny flecks of spittle spraying through the air. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is…"

"It's not," Sam assured, shaking his head and fumbling to get a better grip on Dean's jacket. He hated how his voice broke at the declaration, hated the flicker of disbelief that settled in the depth of his brother's eyes.

"What are you taking?" Dean demanded in a sneer and Sam's ears were ringing with the sound of his brother's anger. "What? What is it?! What are you taking, huh?"

"Nothing…" Sam whispered, shaking his head in denial.

How could Dean think that for even just one second?

"What is it- Meth? Crack? Heroine? C'mon now, your little secret is out, so you might as well tell me!"

"I'm n-not taking anything, Dean, I swear—it's not—"

"BULLSHIT! All of your little midnight trips, every time you came home late at night, barely making it down the fucking stairs, the sluggishness, the vomiting- the crying—"

_Nononono._

Dean was getting it all wrong. He had been sick and emotionally vulnerable, but he had never taken a single drug in his life. Hell, Sam couldn't even hold his liquor and the few times he'd ever tried to take a drag from a cigarette, he'd ended up coughing a lung up.

He wasn't an addict.

Not in the conventional sense anyway…

"And through it all you just continued to spew your dirty little lies like you just couldn't care that I was sick with worry over your ungrateful ass! You selfish, idiotic, sonofabitch! After everything we've been through together- everything I've done for you and this is how you repay me—"

"Dean. _No_—"

"Getting high on street drugs like some low-life thug and then getting your ass beat up in the process!" Dean snorted, whole face twisted with disbelief. "And here I come running to your rescue like the stupid, oblivious fuck that I am- honest to god believing your ridiculous lies. Who beat you really up, huh? Your dealer? Some- some co-junkie?"

"_Dean_—"

"Is it really so fucking hard to be a Winchester? So hard to live a life by my side that you'd rather trip out on that toxic shit—"

"DEAN!" Sam burst out, his voice rattling through his own body like thunder. His heart was racing, chest heaving with each painful intake of breath.

They were looking at each other in stunned silence, both unraveling at the seams.

"I'm not doing drugs, man, god… if all else fails- you have to give me at least that much credit. I'm not taking anything, I swear. Please tell me you believe me. I need you to believe me… please."

There was a beat of silence.

Dean gulped, looking torn, a myriad of emotions marring his face.

When he opened his mouth in answer, Sam wasn't sure he was ready to hear it.

His heart clenched in fear.

This was it.

The moment of truth.

**TBC…**

* * *

_Ahhhh…told you you'd hate me after that evil cliffie. So sorry guys, but I couldn't resist the dramatic turn at the end of the much needed-moment of brotherly shmoop. Hope you enjoyed! :D __So how do you want the story to continue?_

_**A)** Dean doesn't believe Sam. He takes the Impala and leaves Sam behind, telling him to get his shit sorted out and to clean up his own messes for once. When he goes on the planned hunt together with Benny later that week, he is distracted and not on top of his game. He gets hurt and Sam comes to the rescue, but when one of Benny's clients is involved in the hunt, things start to escalate quickly…_

_**B)** Dean does believe Sam when he says he's not doing drugs but when Sam still refuses to tell him the real reason for his strange behavior, Dean calls Castiel in to spy on his unknowing brother. Castiel finds out that Sam's low on blood and confronts the younger Winchester. Sam breaks down and tells the angel about the deal…_

_Thank you once again for the amaaaaazing feedback so far! Of course I would also like to hear your inputs and thoughts for this update, so please drop me a note at the end of this chapter! :D :D :D_


	5. Winged

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 5**

**Author's note**: _Hey everyone! :D So first of all, THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH for the amazing feedback I received for the last chapter and for the whole story in general. I don't have enough words to express how much I appreciate your support. To hear all your kind words is what motivates me to keep on writing, so thank you for that._

_Now as for the new chapter, I had the feeling that quite many of you seemed to have a hard time deciding what option to pick and I guess that's partly my fault for giving you such a poor set of choices. I am sorry for that, guys! I hope the new options will be more appealing to you._

_I went by majority- which means __**Option B**__ won, HOWEVER I mixed elements from both options together in this update, so theoretically we have another hybrid-chapter. I also do not intend for Castiel to become a focal point of this story, so don't worry for those of you who voted against Option B (because of Cas). For me the show is all about the brothers, so my stories also always revolve around Sam and Dean's awesome brotherly bond and nothing (or nobody) else. With that being said, have fun reading the new chapter! _

* * *

Sam felt like falling.

His eyes were closed as he waited for the deadly impact.

But it never came.

Dean's face- the face he knew so well- was contorted with indecision, the fine cut of Dean's jaw tensing and relaxing. Then tensing again.

He looked down in a sweep of thick lashes and Sam was trying to steel himself for the rejection he was sure would follow his brother's silence.

His treacherous heart fluttered with pain and he swallowed, eyes brimming with bitter resolution.

"Okay," Dean's voice was calm and steady, laced with a confidence Sam didn't know he still possessed.

Sam blinked, breath leaving his lungs in a rush.

"O-okay?" he ground out haltingly, unable to believe what he was hearing but longing for the words to be true. For Dean to have meant them.

His brother's face remained unreadable, features chiseled in stone. He sighed, licking his chapped lips before speaking again.

"Yeah, okay. You say you're not taking drugs, I believe you."

Relief hit him like a tidal wave, swamping his heart and making him dizzy. "Thank you," he rasped out in a quivering voice, fingers shaking as he dug them into his brother's plaid shirt once again, holding on just in case Dean changed his mind and tried to leave.

"Thanks, Dean- thank you—" his voice was hoarse with emotion, words breaking off at the end and clogging his throat.

"I have every reason not to," Dean spoke, wiping a hand over the weary lines that crinkled his forehead. Sam shook his head in the affirmative- looking heartbroken and exhausted and so very sorry but Dean cut him off before he could break out into another round of apologies.

"You keep sneaking around my back and lying to my face and I can put up with a lot of your crap Sam, but when you call me at 1 AM in the morning—all beat up and looking like shit and sporting freaking needle marks in your arms—" Dean closed his eyes, jaw locked tight enough to snap as he took a deep breath. "Then that's where I draw the line."

There was a loaded pause- long enough for dread to settle in the pit of Sam's stomach.

"So if you look into my eyes right now and tell me that this isn't what I think it is—"

"It's not," Sam sputtered, unable to hold the words back at the prospect of Dean leaving- of his big brother not believing him.

"Sam I swear to god if you lie to me about this—" Dean's composure was a fragile thing- threatening to crumble right before Sam's eyes.

"If I ever find out that you're—that you're—"

"Never," Sam's eyes welled up on their own accord, but he put all his remaining strength and resolution into the word nonetheless. "I promise…"

Dean looked at him with a mixture of emotions on his face- disbelief and confusion warring with his brotherly affection and the sense of responsibility that came with Dean's job as Sam's protector.

"You know that you can tell me anything right?" Dean asked him with imploring eyes as if daring Sam to deny it. Because Dean had proven it over and over again- that nothing Sam could ever tell him- nothing he could ever do would make his big brother turn his back on him- would ever make Dean think any less of him.

Even if all else failed, Sam knew his brother would always have his back.

But right now- there was a darkness in Dean's eyes that Sam had never seen before. A seriousness in his tone that had never laced his words before.

"You tell me that you're addicted- that you're in some deep shit and so help me god, I'll do anything in my might to help you out. But if I ever find out you lied to me about something as important at this—then that's it. Then we're done forever, you hear me?"

"I'm not," Sam repeated more insistently this time, feeling panic quelling up inside of him at the implied threat of Dean being utterly through with him- parting ways, forever.

Never hearing Dean's voice again. Or seeing him smile or eat his greasy heart-attack-food or singing to one of his favorite classic rock songs in the Impala.

A lifetime ago it wouldn't have scared him so much, being away from his brother.

A lifetime ago there had been a tiny part of himself that craved that kind of independence from his family.

But that part of Sam had crumbled and died a long time ago and it was never coming back.

He had come to accept that in some fucked up way- his brother was completing him, filling all the parts in his heart and soul that had been damaged along the road- every painful death of one of their friends, every pang of guilt for not being able to save somebody, every single loss and downfall- all of these things were somehow manageable, endurable even, because of his brother.

And Sam couldn't do it without Dean.

Without Dean, he would be un-whole.

Dead on the inside.

"I'm not…. I'm not doing- that… it's not. I would never—"

"Good. Keep it that way, you hear me?" Dean demanded, his eyes boring into Sam as he pointed an index finger at Sam's chest. "Cause our lives may be shitty but that's not us. It's not what we do, understand? No matter how hard it gets… no matter what, I want you to promise me—"

"I promise," Sam said without a second's hesitation, breathing through his nose. "I swear on my life…"

Dean held his gaze, nodding briefly. His lips were pressed together into a thin line and Sam felt like his brother still wasn't satisfied with the answer, still wasn't sure whether he should really believe Sam's words or not.

"On Mom's," Dean closed his eyes, jaw locked tight enough to snap. "Promise on Mom's."

Sam swallowed, lowering his eyes.

It was something they rarely did- dragging their parents into their own issues, cheapening their memories by using them to settle their disputes.

It was even harder on Dean than on himself for some reason and Sam wasn't going to drag this out for any longer than necessary.

He'd never gotten to know his own mother and for that he'll always be filled with grief and regretful yearning, but no matter how much he wished for her to be alive and well—in his mind she was nothing more but a figment of illusion- the painful reminder and tragic cause for his father's downfall and his brother's inert brokenness.

"I've barely known her, Dean," Sam whispered regretfully, eyes shaded with a lifetime of missing the mother he'd never even gotten to know in the first place. It was Dean who had been there for him, Dean who had held him when he cried and kissed his boo-boo's and talked him through his first day at school.

"If you really—If you need to make sure—I'll promise on yours…"

Because his brother's life was (and will always be) the most precious thing in the world to him.

There was nothing else he could offer up that would be equally significant.

Nothing more valuable to throw into the pot.

Dean swallowed thickly, looking pale and exhausted. He sported dark rings beneath his eyes and his cheeks looked a little fallen in- almost as if he was sick.

"Alright," he said, determination settling in the depth of his ocean-green eyes. Sam took a deep breath, knowing Dean was convinced. "Let's hit the road, you look like crap…"

'Dito' Sam wanted to say but didn't voice his thoughts.

Instead, he allowed himself to deflate against the cool glass of car window and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

He had no clue what would happen next.

Didn't know what his brother would do once they were inside the bunker or how he would react when Sam couldn't come up with a better excuse for what had happened at the docks.

But he clung to the hope that they would find a way to cope.

That they would deal with it somehow.

Together.

Slowly awareness began to return.

It started with a vague impression of sounds and movements around him.

Sam must have nodded off on the drive back home, because when he blinked his eyes open again the dimly lit surroundings of the bunker came into a blurred view before him.

He felt warm and comfortable and it took him a moment to realize that it was because of the way he was propped up against his brother's side, hips and thighs pressed flush together as Dean struggled to support his weight.

Sam blinked, feeling his own eyelashes brush the skin on his brother's throat from where his face was half-buried in his Dean's neck.

"C'mon, big guy," Dean grunted as he tried to drag the younger man's dead weight towards the entrance of the men of letters' hideaway. "Stop letting me do… all… the freakin' work…"

"Dean—"

The voice wasn't his own and that was when Sam finally realized, that there was a second set of hands on his body- a second person holding him from the side.

The thought made him tense up with discomfort because he didn't want anybody to be around him when his defenses were lowered like this- didn't want anybody but his brother to see him like this.

"Maybe we should wait for him to fully wake up before we—"

"No," Dean interrupted the familiar deep rumble and Sam could feel the shake of his brother's head from where his forehead was pressed against Dean's throat, skin on skin. "It could be a while before he fully comes around, Cas. Gotta get the swelling down first. He's barely catching enough air as it is."

Cas.

He knew he had heard that voice somewhere before.

Knew the feather light touch of the dorky angel they called their friend.

But it was Dean's touch he craved.

Dean's voice he wanted to hear.

And nobody else's.

Lifting shaky fingers, Sam fumbled for halt as he dug his fingers into his big brother's shirt. He clutched the worn fabric like a lifeline and muffled a pained grunt against Dean's skin.

"Alright, I got you—" Dean wiped a strand of sweat-soaked bangs from Sam's face, sounding tired and out of breath. "Gonna…get you fixed up in a… second…"

"Dean, I don't think he feels comfortable with me being here—" Cas protested, his hold around Sam's left arm drawing back with hesitation.

Sam's fingers clenched around his brother's shirt as he pulled harder still, trying to bury himself in Dean's warmth.

"Well tough," Dean breathed out, moving forward and through the screechy door of the bunker. "Cause I need you to get him settled. No way can I get Sasquatch here down the stairs by myself…"

Cas sighed and readjusted Sam's pliant body so that his arm was draped over the angel's shoulders and he was taking up some of the incapacitated man's weight.

They moved down the stairs in an excruciatingly slow manner, careful as to not topple over or let Sam's heavy body slip from their grasp. The younger Winchester could barely do anything but sluggishly try to force his limbs to drag along with their movements until they had reached the worn leather couch in the library.

Dean carefully lowered him to the piece of furniture and Sam couldn't help the panicked sound of discomfort that tore itself from his throat at the loss of skin contact.

Cas was startled by the noise and jumped a little, causing Sam to slip his grasp and thud against the cushions.

"Watch it," Dean hissed in a threatening tone and something warm blossomed in Sam's chest at the hint of protectiveness in his big brother's voice.

"Be careful goddamnit', he's already banged-up enough as it is."

"I'm sorry, Dean, I didn't mean for him to fall..." Cas tried to apologize and Sam felt sorry for the way his brother had snapped at the angel.

If he could have formed coherent sentences or forced any words from his fossilized tongue he would have told Cas that he wasn't to blame for any of this and that Dean was just venting his frustration and helplessness.

But he guessed sleeping was also a valid option… yeah, sleeping was definitely what he needed to do right now.

Sam's eyelids had already started drooping again, the world around him greying out into the fuzzy depths of oblivion, when something cold hit his skin, causing him to gasp in shock and rip his eyes open with panic.

"Hey, hey, whoa—"

His hands shot up to the thing that had wrapped itself around his neck and it felt too much like before- too much like Benny's icy fingers squeezing the life from his body.

"Nugh—"

"Cas! Help me hold him down."

More hands wrapping themselves around his writhing limbs, holding him captive, taking him down.

"Sam! Calm down, alright? It's just the ice pack. Nobody's trying to hurt you here, okay? You need to relax and let us help you."

Ice pack.

Gotta get the swelling down first. He's barely catching enough air as it is.

Dean's words from earlier came back to him in a rush and just like that the fight left his exhausted body and he stopped struggling.

"Alright, alright, here we go… can you hear me, buddy?"

And with the buddy again.

Was it really so hard to call him Sammy?

Did it make Sam pathetic for wanting his old nickname back?

He just wanted Dean to start treating him like his little brother again- like somebody who was cherished- and not just a friend or hunting buddy… or maybe even less than that.

Sam swallowed and nodded to answer his brother's question. "De'n…"

"Right here," Dean squeezed his wrist with a tight smile on chapped lips, staring down at Sam with a worried frown on his forehead. "You're gonna have to stop fighting us, alright? Cas and I are only trying to get you taken care of, but we need you to calm down and let us help you."

Sam nodded, tears of pain and confusion clouding his eyes as he looked from Dean to Cas and back to Dean again.

"Cass?" he slurred out as if testing out the word on his leaden tongue.

"Hello, Sam."

"W-what are you—"

"Your brother called me. He told me you were…" Cas paused, looking for the right word to describe Sam's state before settling on "—unwell."

And wasn't that the understatement of the century?

Sam snorted- or tried to snort anyway- but what came out instead was a mixture of a sob and a grunt of pain when Dean's fingers started examining his chest for cracked ribs.

"Can you get me some towels and the med kit from the bathroom? And get a bucket of luke warm water while you're at it. I need to clean the wounds on his face."

Sam expected Cas to disappear in a flutter of wings, but what he heard instead were heavy footsteps.

Right, Sam suddenly remembered.

No angel grace.

And here he had almost dared to hope that a press of Cas' fingers would be enough to re-stock the missing blood in his system.

"D'n…"

"Yeah, I'm here. Don't worry," his brother calmly interceded, pushing Sam's shirt further up until it was pooling around his chest.

Sam could have told Dean that his chest wasn't hurt and that none of his ribs were cracked or broken, but it felt good to have his brother close by and worried- as fucked up as that sounded- and it felt good to feel Dean's nimble fingers prodding his skin.

"'s going on?"

Cas reappeared before his brother could answer him.

"Put it down here," Dean gestured to a spot on the ground and Cas followed his commands wordlessly, spreading the towels out on the arm rest of the leather couch and propping Sam head carefully on a pillow.

Dean threw the washcloth into the water bowl and rinsed it before gently dabbing at the cut on Sam's lip and the dried track of blood that coated the skin below his nose.

"How did this happen, Dean? Did somebody attack him or—"

"You'll have to ask Sam for that," Dean cut the angel off, a hint of his earlier anger resurfacing from the depths of his stomach. "Apparently he won't talk to me about whatever made him go for a walk in the middle of the freaking night and get himself beaten all to hell. But hey, maybe he confides in an angel of the lord."

Sam flinched when the washcloth dragged over a cut on his left cheek, reopening the wound and causing it to start bleeding again.

"Damnit," Dean swore under his breath, withdrawing his hand and looking positively guilt-ridden.

Sam hadn't flinched back from the pain as much as from the angry words his brother had uttered.

Once more Dean's momentary patience had slipped and the caring attitude had changed back into the anger and betrayal that simmered beneath his brother's mask of indifference.

Castiel seemed to have noticed it as well.

"Let me," the angel moved in from the side, taking the blood-smeared cloth from Dean's shaking hand and continuing to clean Sam's face. "You're both exhausted. Maybe you should get some sleep. I can watch Sam while you're resting…"

"No, I can't. He's—he needs—" Dean protested but that was when his phone started ringing.

"Shit," Dean snatched his cell from his jacket pocket, fingers shaking as he looked at the screen.

Sam saw the instant recognition in his brother's eyes and felt his heart squeeze in agony.

_No… Don't pick that up._

_Don't you freaking dare pick up your phone right now._

_Not when I'm lying here- beat up and tired and needing you on my side—please—please don't pick that up—_

"Benny," Dean greeted, closing his eyes as he straightened up from the ground beside his brother. "Bad timing, man."

Sam's lips flattened out into an angry line and Cas stared down at him uncomprehendingly.

"Look, can I call you back or something—" Dean tried to cut the vampire short, but whatever came next made the older Winchester stop dead in his tracks. "You did what?! Are you crazy? Why would you—Okay, listen, I'll try to get there as soon as I can, just don't do anything stupid okay?"

Sam closed his eyes in defeat, feeling every fiber of his being revolt against the thought of his brother leaving him to meet up with the monster that had done this to him.

He wanted to scream and fight and tell Dean everything that Benny had said and done- everything he had threatened to do to them if Sam wouldn't comply with his demands.

But it was impossible.

Yet again he was forced to watch his brother leave him behind- picking a monster over him- and Sam couldn't help but think that he deserved that somehow, that it was destiny's wicked way of showing him revenge for what had happened with Ruby all these years ago.

"I have to go." Dean's words stung, despite the fact that Sam had already known they were coming.

"Benny got himself in a tight spot stumbling across a vamp nest," Dean trailed off hastily, roaming the library for his wallet and gun in preparation to leave. "He needs my help taking it down. I'll try to be back in a few. "

Right.

Because a vampire who had gotten himself into trouble by accidentally stumbling across a nest of his own kind wasn't phony at all…

When had Dean become so gullible? A year ago his brother would have never let himself believe a vampire's words, least of all when it was such an obvious lie.

"Dean, do you really think that's a good idea?" Cas cut in from the side, sounding genuinely confused at the way the older Winchester would leave Sam in the current condition he was in.

Sam felt his throat ache with the hurt he tried so hard to swallow down as he watched his brother putting on his jacket on. "So you pick him over me, is that it?"

Anger and frustration won over rationality and the words couldn't be held back.

They caused his brother's step to falter in the doorway of the library.

He turned around, looking incredulous. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just ask me that."

"Why?" Sam challenged angrily, the fear of Dean leaving making him bold. "So you don't have a bad conscience when you team up with the fucking vampire who—" Sam's voice broke off before the words could slip from his mouth. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut to regain some of the control he had just lost.

"The vampire who what Sam?! The fucking vampire who saved me- who was there for me when you weren't? The vampire who's my friend and who needs me- is that the one you're talking about?"

There was a beat of silence and Sam bit his lower lip to keep from voicing the response that weighed his tongue down.

There was no sense in arguing when Dean was so convinced of Benny's innocence.

And there was no way Sam could talk him out of leaving without telling him the truth.

But that was obviously out of the question.

"I'm outta here," Dean's gaze dropped to the ground, expression cold and shoulders tense.

There was no mistaking the way he didn't meet Sam's eyes over the distance.

"Take care of him, Cas, you hear me?"

Castiel looked as if he was going to protest, but in the end the angel only nodded his head in compliance. "You know I will. But Dean—"

"I need to do this. Benny's… he's family… he needs me."

"He's not!" Sam ground out, surprised at the menacing strength that laced his words when he barely felt capable of opening his lips at this point, the extent of his injuries and the consequences of the blood loss having finally taken their toll on him.

Dean's eyes widened, deep lines creasing his forehead. "What?" he asked, looking taken aback.

Cas' glance shifted awkwardly between them and he looked uncomfortable to be witnessing the tension-filled moment between the brothers.

Sam was breathing heavily, gathering every last ounce of energy to prepare himself for his next words.

He needed to make them count.

"Family. He's not. I'm your brother- I'm the only family you've got, Dean. We're all we have left..."

Dean's expression hardened and his eyes twinkled with silent fury. "You'd like for that to be true, wouldn't you, Sam?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably next to Sam, opening his mouth in protest, but Dean held up a hand to silence him, shooting him a murderous glare in warning. "Stay out of this. This is between him and me."

Dean's unwavering stare was focused on Sam, no emotion leaking through his eyes as they bore a hole through Sam's heart and soul. "You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking you're spoiled with the way you've always had me at your back- always had me taking care of you, always had me keeping you grounded. But guess what, Sam- nobody ever gave a flying fuck about me!"

Sam shook his head in denial. "That's not true…" he pressed out from behind grit teeth.

He didn't get any further than that.

"Benny might be a vampire, but at least he's been there for me when I needed him. He was there for me when you were away- getting your happily-ever-after and he saved my ass when you couldn't be bothered to care I was gone. Do you seriously wanna begrudge me for wanting to return the favor?" Dean's expression was dark and unforgiving as he carried on, his voice cutting the air like butter. "Are you really so selfish that you can't bear the thought of me caring about somebody other than you?"

Sam's face crumbled when Dean delivered yet another stab to his heart.

Dean took the silence as a confirmation.

"You know what- spare me. I can't deal with your jealousy right now," he shook his head, jaw clenched with anger. "Benny's been a whole lot more of a brother to me these past few weeks than you have, so yeah- he's my family. And I'm gonna help him out, no matter what you think."

Dean turned to leave and Sam stared after him numbly, blinking back tears and bunching up the towel that his brother had discarded earlier.

He tensed up when Dean's voice called one more time from the mapping room. "Make sure he doesn't bail in my absence. And check his body for drugs while you're at it, there's needle marks on his arm."

The orders were directed at Cas, but they caused Sam to tense up in fury, his heart threatening to burst right through his chest with anger.

I promised on your freaking life, you bastard!

I promised on your life and you still don't believe me.

When the door of the bunker fell closed with a loud screech, Cas directed a hesitant gaze towards Sam, looking ten kinds of uncomfortable, getting caught in the middle of their fighting and obviously having no clue what to do about it.

The silence in the room was loaded and heavy, suffocating him.

It was only when Castiel's hand started hovering over his forehand that Sam finally snapped.

"Don't you freaking dare touch me right now or I swear to god I'll rip them off."

Cas looked hesitant, drawing back in a flash. "But Dean said—"

"I know what he said. I was here the whole time, can you just—shut up, Cas? Just… just shut up and stay the hell away from me."

Castiel said nothing, the expression on his face growing from shocked to concerned to genuinely confused.

He let the bloody washcloth drop back into the water, watching the bloody twirls as they dissolved and painted the liquid a brownish red.

"The two of you…" he hesitated, not knowing how to continue. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Yeah," Sam chuckled darkly, no real humor in his tone. "We're a whole new level of screwed up."

"Your brother loves you, Sam… he's just angry right now."

Sam snorted, heart constricting painfully in his chest. "I wouldn't be so sure about it."

Dean might have loved him in the past; he might have loved him for a long time… But right now?

Sam wasn't so sure.

Cas seemed determined to convince him of the contrary. "You're fighting a lot. But that only means that there's still something worth fighting for."

Wow.

When had Cas become so good with words?

"Sometimes I…" Sam swallowed, clearing his voice. "Sometimes I think back to that day in Cold Oak. Yellow eyes and Jake…"

He didn't know why he was telling Cas when the angel hadn't even been around at that time but he knew that he needed to get this off his chest.

"Do you think Dean ever regrets having… you know—having saved me?"

Cas looked at Sam- really looked at him- and frowned. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Just answer the question, please."

Cas' gaze seeped through his skin and pierced his heart.

"No, Sam. I don't think he ever had any regrets about saving you. Your brother… he couldn't live with you dead, Sam. He cares about you- more than he cares about his own life."

"Then what makes him think I could deal with it if our situations were reversed?" Sam challenged, surprised at the way his voice didn't waver and crack with emotion like it did before.

"I couldn't live with him dead either, Cas. I couldn't do it… I- I can't."

Cas was staring intently at Sam as if trying to read his mind.

After a long pause he finally took a deep breath, slowly releasing it with downcast eyes. "Did you… is there something you did- to save Dean? Did you make a deal of your own, Sam? Is somebody hurting you?"

The question was so unexpected- so blunt and straightforward that Sam almost laughed out loud at the irony of the situation.

Here he was- needle marks in his harm and running a near quart low on blood, exhausted and beaten-up and pouring his stupid, treacherous heart out to an angel.

And it was Castiel and not Dean who understood him- who cut right through all his lies and pretenses without as much as a blink of hesitation.

He cut right to the chase- to the core of Sam's problems.

Sam's heart was racing with indecision. Should he dare tell the angel? Maybe write it down instead of outright saying the words?

But then what would happen to Dean if something went wrong and Benny somehow caught wind of the betrayal?

Could he risk it when his big brother's life was on the line?

_**TBC…**_

* * *

_So I was struggling a little with this chapter, hope it was alright and that you enjoyed what came out in the end. Your choices for next time are:_

_**A)** Sam breaks down and tells Cas about the blood pact with Benny. He then wants to follow his brother to the hunt, but Cas insists on getting him a blood transfusion first. Benny's so called "vamp-nest-incident" turns out to be a couple of his addict-clients gone mad when he ran out of blood to sell. One of the hyped-vamps lets something slip about the demon blood and Dean gets suspicious. _

_**B)** Sam doesn't tell Cas the whole story out of fear that Dean could be harmed as a result. Instead he sticks to his earlier story about having been assaulted at the Docks and throws Cas out before going after Dean himself. In the meanwhile Dean is fending off one of Benny's addict-clients who can smell that Dean's blood is very similar to Sam's and go ballistic because of it. Sam shows up at the scene- barely able to stand on his feet and all hell breaks loose…_

_They are pretty similar choices this time around, I hope that's okay with y'all. Slowly but surely we are nearing the point where Dean comes to a grim discovery about his vampire buddy. Anybody ready for some super-protective/murderous/kick-ass big brother?! :D Please drop me a line or two about how you liked the new chapter and of course also let me know which option you prefer! ;) Thank you all for your support, cheers!_


	6. Still Sam

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 6**

**Warnings:** There will be some explicit descriptions of violence in this chapter and some minor Hurt!Dean (sorry for those of you who didn't want it) but I can promise this story is mainly hurt!Sam and will remain that way until the end. Don't panic ;) It's all good.

**Author's notes: **_So quite a few people gave me some constructive criticism based on the portrayal of Sam's character in this story and I'm thankful for that. I know Sam's more than capable of holding his own and he's a strong and independent and proud character. That's part of what makes him awesome but with the whole drama-setting of the story and the boys fighting and Sam getting hurt by Benny I might have gone a little overboard with the tears and weakness. I guess it's just always been easier for me to get into Dean's headspace, despite the fact that I love both brothers equally and that's why it's somehow more difficult for me to stay in character with Sam. __I managed to change the previous chapters a little bit in that regard and I hope it's noticeable because at this point I am too much into the storyline to change too many things without having to re-write everything._

_Now as for the new chapter, It was a close run- but __**Option B**__ won over Option A in the end. I also added chapter titles to this story, hope you guys like them. E__njoy!_

* * *

There had been a time in Sam's life where he had taken pride in the little things, like the 174 points he scored on his LSATs or the fact that he could take a gun apart and put it back together in less than a minute.

He also used to take pride in the fact that he had inherited his Mom's kindness and empathy and the single-minded tenaciousness with which his father got things done.

He used to tell himself that all of these things- every person he's ever met, every monster he's ever killed, every friend he's ever had to bury—all of it shaped his character to the way it was now—all of it made him the _person_ he was now.

But despite knowing that there were many people who held a certain influence over his life- _especially_ Dean of course- he had always so desperately tried to show everyone that beneath his mother's dimples and his father's pride and tenaciousness and Dean's _everything_\- he was still his own person.

Still Sam.

Over the years he had nearly lost sight of that- nearly forgotten who he was and what made him special and why he fought so hard to make this world a better place.

But sitting here right now and letting his shaking fingers glide over the puncture wounds on his arm- seeing the evidence of his own weakness and failure painted across his skin like a permanent tattoo branded in shame- it suddenly got Sam thinking.

It made him realize that he was better than this.

_Stronger_ than this.

Made him remember that he had taken on worse enemies than Benny Lafitte and come out on top, laughing into the face of an evil so terrifying that it was yet unbeknownst to men.

He had defeated the devil himself with nothing more but the love he'd held for his big brother.

And he had done it all by himself.

So when Cas looked at him with concern shimmering in his ocean blue eyes, waiting for an answer Sam hadn't been sure he would be able to give, the younger Winchester was suddenly filled with a fierce bout of resolution.

Things couldn't go on like this, because if there was one thing Sam still knew about himself, it was that he needed Dean in his life and he _needed_ for him and his brother to get along- for them to be on the same page again.

This right now- whatever they were doing?

The constant fighting, the lying, the deceiving- it felt wrong and Sam was going to put an end to it.

But he was going to do it his own way.

"Sam?" Cas softly pushed, looking genuinely concerned for him and for a second Sam wondered if he should feel humbled by the fact that their angel friend seemed to have developed his own sense of emotion just for him and Dean. "Are you feeling okay? You haven't answered my question yet. "

"Look Cas, I really appreciate... what you're trying to do here but there's no need for you to babysit me. I...I'm gonna be just fine on my own so you can go do your own thing and I'll just—"

"So you are not under the influence of dependence causing substances?" Cas pushed, cutting him off and Sam barely held back a humorless laugh at the unembellished question.

Cas might have developed human-like emotions but his absolute lack of sensitivity and social skills was still comparable to the ones of a four-year-old.

Sam sighed, pulling himself into an upright position on the couch and wincing in pain when the motion jarred his swollen throat and neck.

"No, I'm _not_ doing drugs," He caught the ice pack as it threatened to slide down his chest and dropped it to the floor. "I got beat up by a gang of rowdies while going for a walk...just like I told Dean. That's it, nothing else happened, okay?"

He spoke slowly, trying hard to get the sentences out without stumbling over the words, despite his heavy tongue and the way his voice was wavering each time he opened his lips to say something.

There was no way he could tell Cas what really happened.

Not with Dean's life being on the line.

Especially when Castiel didn't even have his angel grace to back Sam up in a fight against Benny if it ever came to that.

"Then why are there needle marks on your arm?" Cas frowned, looking adorably baffled. "Did you donate blood?"

Sam rubbed a weary hand over his face before driving it through his hair. "Yeah. That's what I did," he sighed, not even bothering to think of a better lie. "I donated blood."

"But they took too much," the angel protested, unwilling to let the issue go that easily. "You seem to have lost an almost unhealthful amount of it. And you didn't tell Dean—"

"Because Dean... he doesn't like seeing me hurt," Sam made up quickly, not giving the angel a chance to seriously contemplate his phony answers. He was done wasting time with Castiel, while Dean was off putting himself in danger for that twisted son of a bitch Benny.

"So listen, Cas… I need you to do me a favor. I'm still kind of in pain… so could you maybe get me the pain killers from our bathroom?"

Cas was frowning, unsure about whether he was being lied to or not. And really- who could blame him?

After all Sam hadn't even really tried to make his lies credible. Dean had always been better when it came to fabricating stories out of thin air.

And Sam really just needed a quick excuse for the angel to leave the room.

"Sure, Sam… I'll go get them," Cas said after a second's hesitation, straightening up from the spot beside Sam on the couch.

Sam watched him go, fingers already going for the switchblade they kept in the cupboard next to him.

He flicked it open, hissing when he ran the sharp blade over his palm.

When Cas returned two minutes later with a bottle of water and the painkillers in his hands, Sam had already painted the banishing sigil across the wooden floor boards of their living room.

"What are you—" the angel stammered, eyes widening with incredulity and the tiniest flicker of betrayal when he saw the crimson red finger prints on the ground.

Sam didn't have the time to feel guilty.

"I'm sorry Cas," he said, lowering his bloody palm to connect with the banishing sigil on the ground. "But this battle... it isn't yours to fight."

The bunker erupted in a bright flash of light and then Cas was gone, leaving Sam in its wake, blinking and heavily breathing, trying to gather his bearings.

Time to take matters into his own hands.

* * *

Dean's machete sailed flawlessly through the air and buried itself in a Vampire's neck, swiftly severing the life-supplying veins and sinews that connected that monster's head with the rest of its body.

The vampire's head tumbled to the ground with a sickening sound, rolling across the concrete- the wide-eyed look of shock and horror forever branded into its lifeless features.

"Behind you!" Benny yelled at him from across the docks and Dean had just enough time to duck when another monster attacked him from behind, jaws ripped wide open and elongated fangs bared in anger.

Dean plunged his machete into the side of the vampire's throat, blood pouring freely from the wound and violet veins protruding from beneath ghostly skin- spreading across the guy's neck and disappearing below his blood soaked shirt.

He pulled it out again with a small grin of victory at the gurgling sound that tumbled past the monster's lips, before it slumped to the ground in a puddle of its own blood.

The sound of death- of cool steel gliding through a living organism's flesh and taking life had gradually grown into a comforting lullaby to him- much like the incessant sound of hammering keyboards would become a familiar background noise to people working in an office all day long.

Years of killing had numbed him down to a point where it had become a routine- where not even the gloomiest of situations seemed threatening anymore because he had done it all before-_ seen_ it all before- and no matter how many monster's he would kill- there would always be some bigger evil looming on the horizon- ready to take over.

It was a vicious circle- quite literally- and Dean had given up hope on ever finding that light at the end of the tunnel his brother promised to lead him to.

He had made his peace with what he was- _who_ he was- even if he couldn't stand to look at his own reflection in the mirror half the time he looked at himself.

Because it didn't matter if Dean _liked_ himself- only his actions mattered- only the number of dark souls he eradicated and the number of good souls he saved, counted.

So this was what it had all boiled down to.

Find a case, research, track down, kill, save, repeat.

Quite simple once you stopped thinking about it.

Dean whipped around to the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and drove his machete into the chest of a female vampire, watching her pupils widen and listening to the gurgling sound of her airways filling with blood as she slipped down the blade, slumping down the slick metal with helpless precision, impaling herself.

"Y-You… _Winchester_—" she wheezed.

"That's right, sweetheart," Dean purred darkly, twisting the blade inside her chest before ripping it free and sending her to the ground. "Let them know who's coming for them while you're down there."

Benny came to a halt next to him, clutching at a shallow wound in his side and breathing heavily. "Nice one, brother…"

His dark blue navy coat was ripped in a few places and there were scratches on his cheeks and neck.

Dean was nursing a few bruises and a couple of cracked rips of his own, but nothing life-threatening.

He took a weary look around, shoulders drawn up with tension and heart racing in his chest- ready to take on an army of these blood-sucking bastards if necessary.

"That everyone?" he asked, secretly hoping for more to come.

"For now, I guess…" Benny rasped out, spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He then reached up with meaty fingers to straighten the battered looking navy cap on his head, meeting Dean's darkened gaze with hooded eyes.

"Thank ye' for being here so soon, brother. Don't know what I'd have done without you by my side."

Dean cleaned the worst of the blood from his machete with the dirty bandana he kept in his jeans pocket before slipping it back into its sheathe and shrugging. "No need to thank me, man. It's the least I could do."

"These fuckers would have torn me to shreds if you hadn't come tough. Came just in time to save my bacon, there."

"Yeah well… that's what you get for running into a nest of your own kind," Dean snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, what the hell were you thinking, Benny? You know you can always call me if things get hairy, but I didn't peg you for the suicidal kind. Taking on a whole nest of these blood-thirsty freaks on your own is practically a death sentence—"

"Yeah well what can I say, sometimes the cards just ain't in your favor, you know? It just kind of happe—Dean, watch out!"

Dean saw the exact second when Benny must have spotted something behind him, but by the time he felt a presence at his back and tried to turn around, it was already too late.

The next second Dean had a blade pressed against his throat, head pulled back by the hair to expose his throat and a meaty arm wrapped around his middle to hold him still.

"Hey there, handsome…" a sandpaper voice rasped against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

He tensed, right hand shooting down to his weapon but he didn't get any further than that when the vampire nicked his skin in warning. "I wouldn't try it if I was you… wouldn't want for your neck to get snapped so soon, would we now, _Winchester_? Not if there's so much more fun to have for you and me."

Dean's eyes flickered over to Benny, his movements stilling.

"Well I hate to be a killjoy- but I doubt you and me have the same understanding of that term. See for one, I don't enjoy sucking people dry—"

"Funny you say that, considering that your best friend over there is every bit as much of a fang as I am," the guy growled low in his throat, jabbing the finger of his free hand into Benny's direction. "And you two seem to get along just spectacularly."

Dean clenched his teeth, forcing his lips into the kind of smile that usually preceded a killing blow. "Guess I just don't like assholes then..."

A deep chuckle erupted from the guy's chest, sending vibrations through Dean's back and up his spine. He tried to rip free from the vampire's grasp, but the man held him restrained without letting loose, not giving a single inch and only proceeding to dig the tip of the blade deeper into Dean's throat.

"Wow there, why don't we all calm down there for a second and talk—" Benny tried to cut in from the side, raising both his palms in a clear sign of surrender as he slowly dared to approach them.

"_Talk?!_" the vampire snarled at Benny. "You are the reason why my whole family is dead- you got them addicted and then _killed_ by your buddy here and now you want to fucking talk things out?! Think again you treacherous piece of shit!"

Dean gasped out when the pressure on his throat increased to an almost painful level. He could feel his own blood quell from the wound on his throat, slicking up his skin as the oily warm liquid slid along the outside of his artery.

And that's when things started to go from bad to worse.

The vampire tensed behind Dean, muscles straining against the older Winchester's back as he leaned forward, nosing at Dean's throat and inhaling deeply.

"You…" the vampire whispered against the shell of his ear, easing up just enough to let Dean take a breath. "Your scent… I know it. There's something about your blood that I can't put a finger on…it seems familiar somehow..."

Benny hazarded another step forward but apparently that wasn't the right thing to do.

The vampire hissed, ripping his mouth wide open before slamming his fangs down into Dean's neck and burying them in the depths of his flesh.

Dean couldn't suppress the painful groan that escaped him and instinct had him fighting the intrusion, but the vampire was stronger than him, easily fending off his panicked attempts at freeing himself and holding him immobile.

Blood shot up to his neck when the monster started sucking and panic clawed its way up to Dean's heart at the intimate feeling of having your lifeblood withdrawn from your veins.

"_Benny,_" he gasped, but before the other vampire could come to his rescue, his tormentor had already let go again, giving Dean the chance to momentarily recover from the attack.

"You are _the one_…" the vampire breathed out almost reverently, wiping a trail of blood from his lips.

Dean frowned, trying to make sense of the words as his heart jackhammered wildly inside his chest.

"What—" he stammered, feeling a little disoriented after having his blood sucked from his throat and looking over at Benny for guidance, but his friend barely spared him a glance, his face twisted in horror at whatever the vampire had just said.

"This is the guy whose blood you are selling, isn't it?! The one whose blood you got my whole family hooked up on? This is your golden boy, right here at my mercy—"

_Golden boy? _

_The guy whose blood you're selling... _

What the hell was he even talking about?

"It's not," Benny shook his head defiantly, risking another step forward, arms still raised in the air in a placating manner. "Listen, you're getting it all wrong, son. How about we sit down together and talk about this reasonably?"

"I'm not your son, you fucking bastard!" the vampire snarled, shoving Dean to the ground before storming forward to launch himself at Benny.

Dean dropped to the floor with a shocked gasp of air, hands immediately shooting up to the shallow cut that circulated his neck and the two holes right next to it where the vampire had dug his fangs into his body.

He took a shaky inhale, thanking his lucky stars for the fact that the vampire hadn't decided to cut Dean's neck like he no doubt intended to do in the first place and even more importantly- that he hadn't completed the turning ritual and forced his own soiled vampire blood onto Dean in order to change him.

When he looked over to check on Benny, he found the two vampires wrestling on the ground, Benny seemingly losing the upper hand as he tried to fend off the other guy with all of his remaining power.

Dean couldn't just sit by and let his friend get killed right before his eyes.

He grunted when he pulled himself up from the ground with his last bit of energy, fine layers of sweat covering his skin from the physical exertion and pooling in the shallow dips of his collarbones.

Ripping his machete from his belt, Dean wielded the weapon, ready to land the lethal blow, when the enraged vampire suddenly seemed to notice his presence and whirled around with inhuman speed, knocking the blade from Dean's hands and leaving him completely defenseless.

"You really don't know when to quit, huh?" the guy snapped, blood dripping from a shallow cut on his cheek as he descended on Dean with a murderous expression on his face.

Dean stumbled back, looking around for any other type of sharp object in his vicinity to use in the battle, but before he got the chance to do so, the sound of a gun firing shattered the tension-filled night and made them all freeze.

Dean's eyes widened when a thumb-wide hole appeared in the center of the vampire's forehead and a first trickle of blood protruded from the wound before the body slumped lifelessly to the ground.

He whirled around to where the sound of the gun shot had come from and felt his heart miss a beat at the sight that met his eyes.

Over there, standing near a beat-up Honda in the center of the nearby parking lot stood his brother, long arm still outstretched with a smoking gun in his shaking hands.

"S-sammy?" he stammered, unable to trust his own eyes at what he was seeing.

"Dean... thank god," his brother ground out with utter relief in his trembling voice as he tucked the gun away and slowly staggered forward, approaching Dean with wide and overly bright eyes, his face still far too pale for Dean's liking and his hair a wild mess of unruly brown bangs. "Y-you okay?"

"You're asking me that- have you looked in the mirror lately?" Dean asked sarcastically, before grabbing Benny's outstretched hand to lift him up from the ground. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought I'd told you to stay at the bunker—"

"S-strictly speaking… you told Cas to not... let me... let me go anywhere…" Sam corrected, barely sparing Benny a glance as he willed his leaden limbs to move forward, clutching street lamps and trash bins for support.

"Damnit' Sam," Dean muttered under his breath when his brother stumbled over his own feet- barely catching himself on the metal balustrade that ran along the wooden racks.

Without thinking the older brother crossed the distance between their bodies and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders, putting an end to his brother's slow advance. "Do you **_want_** to end up in intensive care or something? What are you doing out here all alone- in that condition? And where the hell is Cas?"

"Y-you okay?" Sam blinked up at Dean with glazed eyes, completely ignoring all of his older brother's questions and reaching up to brush gentle fingers against the bite wound on his neck.

"Peachy," Dean winced, fending Sam's prodding hands off with a pointed glower. "The guy wanted to have a piece of me- no big deal, alright? It's you I'm more worried about right now..."

"Always worried 'bout me, " Sam laughed shakily- _humorlessly_, looking like a crazy man who had just survived a run-in with a whole gang of hooligans and denied himself the hospital. "He didn't try to... to turn you, did he? Cause we can get you the cure—"

Dean's eyes narrowed in honest to god concern at the way Sam seemed to have trouble stringing together coherent sentences. "He just bit me, Sam. No harm done."

He grabbed his brother by the arm, steadying him when he swayed a little and gently grasped Sam's chin with his fingers.

"I think you are done for tonight, big guy. Time to haul your ass home... _Again_."

"Well," Benny groaned, dusting off the dirt from his jacket from having rolled around on the ground before looking from one brother to another. "If it isn't the loving family reunion played out right in front of me… how touching."

Dean frowned, feeling a weird discomfort prickle the back of his neck. There was something about Benny's posture- about the way his friend was talking that sent his alarm bells ringing.

Pure instinct had him taking half a step to the side, so that he was standing between his weakened brother and the vampire.

"How exceedingly thoughtful of _Sammy_ here to come to your rescue after not having lifted a fucking finger to save you from Purgatory when you needed him most."

Dean's eyes narrowed to small slits, because while it was one thing for him and Sam to get into a fight, there was something utterly unacceptable about other people- _outsiders_\- talking shit about his little brother and getting away with it.

However before Dean could open his mouth to put Benny in his place, Sam had stepped up to the vampire himself, squaring his shoulders and pressing an open palm against Benny's chest.

"Shut up," he hissed. "I'm not the one... w-who almost got him killed just now."

"No, that's right you ain't," Benny chuckled, eyes glinting dangerously. "But you sure as hell cost him his life in every other sense of the word since the day you were born."

Dean felt his own heart skip a beat at the cruelty of his friend's words and he saw the exact second when something snapped inside of Sam.

His brother made a move forward, face twisting with anger but before he could do anything too rash, Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's chest from behind, holding him back. "Stop it. Both of you! What the hell has gotten into you, huh?"

Sam's nostril's flared, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Dean's arm. "Sammy, calm the fuck down, I mean it. This isn't the time and place for you to hulk out, alright?"

Sam huffed and strained against Dean's hold, but the older brother held tight, not letting go.

The younger man was barely able to hold himself up as it was- how he had managed to highjack a car and drive all the way here without Cas' help was absolutely beyond Dean- but if he knew one thing for sure, it was that his brother wouldn't be able to win a physical fight against Benny in the condition he was currently in.

So that clearly wasn't going to happen.

Not that he would have let it happen in the first place.

"And you—" Dean turned around to face Benny, stabbing an index finger into the vampire's chest. "I don't know what crawled up your ass and died, but whatever's between my brother and me is none of your goddamned business, you got me?"

Benny's lips twisted into an angry grimace and Dean felt a renewed bout of suspiciousness at his friend's uncharacteristical behavior.

"Fine, have it your way," the vampire hissed and Dean had about a flash second's time to see the solid steel object Benny had somehow pulled out from where his hand had been hidden behind his back, before a bright all-encompassing pain spread across the left side of his head, dipping his world into darkness.

Pain tore through his body as he crumbled to the ground, a gloomy darkness engulfing his mind and dragging him under. And it was only then- with Sam's frantic cries slowly fading out into silence the words spoken earlier by the vampire came rushing back at him, echoing hollowly through his brain.

_The guy whose blood you are selling… _

_The one whose blood you got my whole family hooked up on…_

_Whose blood you are selling._

_Got hooked up on._

_Drugs._

_Needle marks._

_Sammy…_

_Shit._

**_TBC..._**

* * *

_I somehow feel like that last word of the chapter perfectly sums up the quality of the chapter as a whole. Let's hope I am wrong and this is just my self-criticism speaking^^ __Before I give you the options for chapter 7, I have a brief announcement to make on a personal note. __ As of July__ this year, I will travel to VANCOUVER and spend 7 months there for an internship :D It's an amazing job opportunity and it certainly doesn't get much more supernatural than that, right? :P So yeah- I am thrilled and wanted to share my happiness with you guys because I knew you'd understand. Haha ;)_

_So here are your options for the next chapter:_

_**A)** Benny knocks Dean out and forces Sam into compliance by threatening to kill Dean. When Benny orders Sam to cuff his unconscious brother to a pipe and leave him behind, the younger Winchester starts protesting, which leads to another fight in which Benny (finally) lets himself taste Sam, seeing as how he's got nothing to lose… Dean awakes right on time to see Benny with his fangs buried in his little brother._

_**B)** Benny knocks Dean out and forces Sam into compliance by threatening to kill Dean. They maneuver the knocked-out brother into the warehouse and restrain him. Then Benny waits for Dean to come around, introducing the older Winchester to his plan to keep Sam as a 'blood-dispenser' and continue to sell his blood on the streets forever… Dean takes the news… not so well._

_Yayyy, so Dean is about to FINALLY find out- one way or another- now who is ready for the big show-down? :D Please tell me what you thought about the chapter- I would really appreciate your insights. Don't forget to let me know what option you prefer! Thanks for reading! Cheers._


	7. Revelation

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 7**

**Author's notes: **_Sorry for the long wait guys. I was quite busy these last few weeks and couldn't really get my muse on. Thank you, as always, for the numerous reviews, favs and follows! You guys ROCK! :D **Option A** was chosen for this chapter. There's quite a lot of dialogue- hope that's okay. Also- a little bit of Hurt!Dean in reaction to what happened at the end of chapter 6. Enjoy!_

* * *

It all happened so fast.

One second Dean was standing in front of him, piecing things together and the next he had slumped to the ground like a sack of bricks and didn't get back up.

Sam had trouble processing things, vision clouded over by a blurred haze, but when he saw the glinting lead pipe in Benny's hands, his mind started drawing the connection and his heart stopped beating in his chest.

Dean's unconscious body lay sprawled across the wooden docks, his face angled unnaturally to the side, trickle of blood running down the center of his forehead from a vicious looking cut below his hairline.

Benny had hurt Dean- had taken a fucking _lead pipe_ to his brother's head and that was the last straw.

"You sonofabitch—" Sam growled, storming forward, hands already going for his gun but his advance was cut short when the vampire grabbed him at the shoulders, delivered a swift kick to his stomach and effectively disarming him before slamming him down to the ground.

The unexpected counter attack was disorienting to the already unsteady Winchester and before Sam knew it Benny had dropped down on top of him and painfully dug his knee into his stomach.

Sam grunted, struggling beneath the crushing weight of the man's leg as it pressed into his abdomen, restricting his breathing.

"Coming here was a mistake _Sammy_ and I'm afraid yer brother's gonna be the one to pay for it." Benny nodded his head towards the older Winchester brother, eyes gleaming dangerously. "Think about it- Dean never needed to get involved in this and now he's gonna die… and all of yer' ridiculously pathetic efforts to save him… they'll be for naught."

"Fuck you," Sam forced out from behind clenched teeth, lashing out and landing a flat handed punch to the vampire's throat, causing Benny to momentarily lose his balance- just long enough for Sam to roll out beneath him.

Breathing heavily, Sam crawled towards his unconscious brother and fumbled for the blood-smeared machete that was attached to his belt but before he got a chance to rip the weapon from its satchel, the sound of a cocked gun made him freeze, heart jackhammering frantically in his chest.

Sam stilled his movements, holding his breath as the looming shadow of Benny's threatening pose fell over him and Dean.

"Hands were I can see 'em, no foul tricks or he's gonna take a bullet to the head, that clear?"

Sam bit his lower lip, mind spinning with about a thousand moves he could try but not daring to do anything that could put his brother's life in jeopardy.

"Alright," he let out in a puffed exhale, slowly straightening up onto his knees, palms lifted in a non-threatening way, shoulders tense and eyes fixated on his brother's still form. "D-don't shoot. Just… don't hurt him, okay? I'll do what you say—"

"Shut up," Benny snapped, towering over them, arms outstretched and gun pointed steadily at Dean's head. "Get your ass over to the warehouse… you know the drill, don't ye?"

Sam licked his lips, forehead crinkling into a protesting frown. He glanced back down at Dean- unwilling to leave his brother behind. "Dean—"

"I'll take care of him. Unless…" Benny chuckled gleefully. "Unless you wanna carry him that is?"

Sam threw Benny a murderous glower over the shoulder.

Yeah, right… wasn't exactly like he could lift up his brother's 170 pound frame from the floor in the state he was in- much less carry him all the way over to the storage hall on the other side of the docks.

Sam kneeled unresponsively before his unconscious brother, every fiber of his being focused on the slow rise and fall of Dean's chest, on the way his brother's breathing had slowed out into a steady rhythm similar to the one you'd have in a state of serene sleep.

He carefully lowered a hand to Dean's carotid but barely had enough time to feel a flutter of his brother's heartbeat against his shaking fingers before Benny sharply barked at him to raise his hands back up into the air.

Finally, once he'd reassured himself of his brother's strong pulse and relative physical intactness Sam dared to inch backwards, both arms raised and fingers pointing to the sky. "Benny, I swear to fucking god, if you hurt him any more than that I'll—"

"You'll what?" Benny snidely interrupted, gesturing for Sam to get a move on with the tip of the gun- face set into lines of grim determination. "Don't know if you've realized, but you're not exactly in the position to threaten me, kiddo."

Sam's jaw locked, equally grim, eyes falling to the ground as he nodded his understanding. "Yeah, alright… you're calling the shots here, I get it, Benny, I do… just—leave Dean out of this, alright? He doesn't know anything yet- if you can just- I don't know, leave him out here—"

Granted- maybe his suggestion was a little weak, especially given that Dean would be hell-bent on finding him and Benny once he came to. But Sam was grasping at straws here and with the way he was basically useless, being weakened and dizzy and weaponless- he was ready to ignore his own pride and do anything to ensure his brother's safety.

But judging from the self-righteous smile on Benny's face, his tactic wasn't working as well as he'd hoped.

"You know being down there in Purgatory? The one thing I could never understand was how many of my monster buddies knew your family name… _Winchester_," Benny spat the name out like the rancid aftertaste of something he'd eaten, face grimacing in distaste.

"Even down there the name was making circuits… everybody had at least heard of the famous hunter family who hacked and slayed its way through the world of the supernatural. And now I am standing here- one of you knocked out cold-" Benny snorted and spat a glob of pile down next to Dean's face, earning himself a dirty glower from Sam.

"And the other on his knees- about four pints low on blood, barely able to stand and begging me for lenience. So no, Sammy boy, I don't think I'm gonna leave your brother out here... I think I'm gonna enjoy taking you both out. Once and for all."

Sam clenched his teeth, feeling a violent bout of anger surge through the pit of his stomach. "You ever stopped to think that maybe… maybe these bastards knew our name so well because we were the ones to send them down there in the first place?"

Sam was breathing heavily, trying to catch enough air to get his sentences out in one go. He needed to pull it together. Needed to ignore the raging headache that would have been vicious enough to send him to his knees, if he hadn't already been kneeling. Needed to ignore the way his surroundings kept swimming out of focus and changing proportions.

All of it needed to wait until his brother was safe.

Until Dean was conscious and talking and walking and ready to kick some ass.

"Did the thought ever cross your mind that the last thing these bastards became aware of before we snapped their necks was how fucking stupid it is to underestimate a Winchester?"

Benny grinned predatorily down at him, pearly white teeth bared behind his stretched lips. "I like you, Sam… you're funny. Kind of a pity, really, that I'll have to snap_** your**_ neck this time and put an end to that whole Winchester legacy crap… but don't worry… still a lot of fun to have together before it comes to that."

Sam swallowed at the reminder of what Benny had in stow for him, looking back down at his brother, fingers curling up into fists and teeth grinding together. "Do whatever you want to me… but Dean… Dean's got n-nothing to do with this—he _trusted_ you—"

"That he does, my friend, that he does…" Benny snickered, shaking his head as if he couldn't really understand how he had managed to pull that feat off all by himself when so many of his predecessors had failed. "And it will be all the more fun to watch him break because of it once I let him in on our little 'agreement'."

"You're a t-twisted… son of a …bitch, you know that?" Sam spat out through gritted teeth as he slowly rolled back on his heels, straightening up into a standing position.

"Been told so once or twice…" Benny chuckled, sounding almost proud of his achievement and Sam had never wanted to wipe the smug grin off anyone's face more than he did in that second.

He ignored the cold shudder that wrecked his body at the chilly breeze that blew by and lifted his chin a little, squaring his shoulders and steeling himself for whatever Benny had planned.

"Good boy," Benny praised him like a dog, causing the younger man to bristle with rage. "Now turn your back."

"_No way_."

Like that was going to happen. Turning his back on his brother when Dean was laid out on the floor and totally out of it- helpless against any kind of attack from the vampire.

The sound of a firing gun was loud enough to echo through the night- sending birds flying away in a flutter of wings and panicked screeches, when Benny pulled the trigger, burying a bullet in the wooden floor board next to Dean's sprawled out form.

Narrowly missing his brother's middle.

"Turn. Around." Benny ordered once more, not joking.

Sam's mouth had dropped open in shock; his eyes were blown wide, flickering from Benny to the bullet hole and back up.

His heart had stopped beating there for a second and his knees felt weak like overcooked spaghetti. "Alright- I hear you. Don't shoot him."

At first he wasn't sure if he could trust his own limbs to function properly, but somehow he still managed to comply with the vampire's request, the fear of getting Dean hurt propelling him into motion.

The mere fact that his brother hadn't awoken from the loud banging noise of the firing gun right next to him was testament to how out of it Dean must have been- to how hard Benny must have hit him.

A spark of deeply-rooted fear overcame Sam and made him worry about concussions, hemorrhaging and brain damage. But he couldn't let himself think that way.

If he started losing it now there would be no guarantee for how Benny might react.

"Get over to the warehouse and hold the door open so I can carry him inside. No funny stuff or I'll snuff his lights out, you hear?"

Sam nodded.

He started moving towards the storage building with slow but deliberate steps, mind racing with a million types of scenarios, mentally going through a checklist of things he could pull to gain the upper hand, but with the way Benny kept his gun trained at Dean's forehead there was no way to tell if Dean would survive the maneuver.

And Sam couldn't risk his brother's life.

Not under any circumstances.

Once he had positioned himself in the doorway, back pushing against the heavy steel door, Sam felt his insides clench at the sight of Benny heaving his unconscious brother's body up and manhandling him over his shoulder into a fireman's carry.

To look at the monster that had betrayed them in the worst ways possible with an unconscious Dean in his hands went against every single fiber of his being.

The vampire paused when he had reached the doorway, holding it open and motioning for Sam to step inside first- never willing to turn his back on the younger Winchester.

Once inside, Benny dragged his brother over to the wall and dumped Dean's body carelessly to the ground- his head only narrowly missing the steel pipe that ran along the walls of the building. "Hey!" Sam barked out in warning, instinctively taking a wavering step forward, but Benny shot him a threatening glower over the distance, freezing him in place.

"Hold yer horses… he's not feeling a damn' thing right now. But he will be if you don't do what I'm sayin'. Now come over here- slowly- and cuff him to the pipe."

"He's hurt…" Sam objected weakly, everything inside him protesting at the thought of having to lock Dean up when he was their only chance at getting out of this crappy situation.

Benny inclined his head to the side, eyes glinting a dangerous shade of blue. "Tough luck."

And that was that.

Sam pressed his lips together, letting out a slow breath before moving over to where Dean's body had been so gracelessly dumped on the dusty ground. He held out a hand, wriggling his fingers demandingly until a set of cool steel cuffs was dropped into his open palms.

Sam ran appraising fingers over his brother's pale cheek, wiping absent-mindedly at the crusted trail of blood that was smeared across Dean's forehead before lifting his brother's torso and propping it up against the wall behind him, so that his brother was in a seemingly comfortable sitting position.

"I said _cuff_ him," Benny sneered from the side, tapping the muzzle of his gun impatiently against the back of Sam's head as a reminder of who was in charge. "Not cuddle him. Now, c'mon."

Sam sighed, taking one of Dean's lax arms into his hands and placing the first cuff around his brother's wrist. "I'm sorry…" he whispered as he clicked the metal into place, sliding his own fingers between the steel and his brother's skin to check if they were loose enough as to not cut his brother's blood circulation off.

He slipped the chain around the drainage pipe and closed the second cuff around Dean's other wrist before looking up at Benny expectantly. "What now?"

"What do you think?" Benny challenged, nodding towards the hated chair that was still conveniently placed in the middle of the storage hall- right beneath the swinging, dirt-crusted light bulb that cast the whole room into a gloomy haze of orange.

Sam closed his eyes, lashes fanning out against his ghostly cheeks. "So what… you're gonna bleed me dry, is that your glorious plan?"

"Among other things, yeah…" Benny said while Sam got up and moved towards the chair with leaden limbs and a heavy heart.

A small part of him wished for Dean to wake up before Benny would kill him, but that was a selfish thought- considering how much it would hurt his big brother to be forced to watch him die. _Again._

If Sam had known how terrible all of this would end, he would have never… oh hell, who was he even kidding? Sam would have still done it- would have still made the deal and gotten them into all this trouble if there was even just the slightest chance of saving Dean from Purgatory.

That was kind of what they did.

"Then why let Dean live?" Sam rasped out drily, dropping down on the wooden chair with deathly resignation. "You want him to watch me die, is that it?"

"Well that sounds like a hell of a lot'a fun. But no, I need him for somethin' else first… Your brother and me are connected, Sammy-boy. Our bond runs through our veins since we performed the binding ritual in Purgatory…"

Sam knew that.

The binding spell had been what had enabled Benny to get Dean out of Purgatory in the first place.

Or so he had been told

But the magic he used had been powerful and their agreement had come with a few hidden agenda's Sam hadn't been aware of when he made the deal with the vampire.

Sam had tried every counter spell he could find in the bunker's library after Benny had first threatened to drag Dean back to Purgatory, but there was no way to test if the vampire's claims were true or not without getting Dean killed.

"What's that g-got to do with anything?" Sam wanted to know, frowning suspiciously at the vampire as Benny snaked a coil of rope through the armrest of the chair and around Sam's arms. "What the hell- you've got Dean as leverage and you still need to… tie me to a freakin' chair?"

"Precautions, " Benny winked at him with an easy grin, all smooth accent and teasing calm. "Wouldn't want to regret having _underestimated a Winchester_, right?"

Sam glowered at having his own words from earlier thrown back into his face.

"Right," Sam griped back, tugging on the course rope as it was knotted tightly around his wrists, rendering him immobile. "So the binding spell… what about it?"

If he was going down, he at least needed to know his brother was having a shot at getting out of this- at being saved. That Dean would be alright without him.

Benny proceeded to loop the coarse rope around his ankles, tying his feet to the chair legs, while shooting him cursory glances every now and then. "It's an ancient Mayan spell, causing two souls to be part of each other- if one dies the other dies and all that jazz… you get the idea—"

"A m-mayan… spell?" Sam was buffled. "But h-how I mean—is it reversible?"

Benny straightened up, eyes flashing with glee as he chuckled darkly.

"You_ really_ believe that shit, don't ye?"

The words were like a shovel of ice cubs shoved down his shirt front. Everything inside Sam twisted and coiled up tight- hot white anger flaring inside his belly and spreading out through his whole body.

"W-what?" Sam uttered, jaw dropping open in stunned incredulity. "B-But—"

"_Mayan_…" Benny snorted as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Do I sound like a spic to you, kid?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"There never was any spell was there?" Sam realized after a second, closing his eyes on a shuddery exhale.

"Sure there was," Benny gave back easily, "Just not anything with long lasting consequences. A spell to carry him out through the portal- and after he was released it was all over. No soul bindings or whatever. Getting your brother back down there would have been practically impossible."

Sam almost choked on his rage- the incredulity over his own gullibility nearly killing him. "You fucking asshole—you tricked me—"

"Seems to me that despite your fanfare around your family legacy, you haven't quite understood the term 'corrupted soul'," Benny analyzed gleefully, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially into Sam's ear. "Lying and deceiving is basically our job descriptions, Sammy-boy. It's about damn' time you learned that lesson…"

Sam gritted his teeth, heart racing in his chest, his emotions getting the better of him. Without warning, he shot forward in his seat- as far as the bindings would let him and head-butted Benny in the face, making brutal impact with the Vampire's nose.

Benny grunted, stumbling back a few steps, eyes widening in shock and hands flying up to where blood was already gushing from his nose. "Oh ye're gonna pay for that, you little shit—"

Fruitlessly wrestling with his bindings, Sam shrank back in his chair as Benny advanced on him, looking every bit the blood-thirsty monster Sam had always known him for.

The punch was expected, but that didn't lessen the pain. A jolt of blinding white agony blazed a trail through his jaw and up to his brain, sending him reeling. Sam's head was ruthlessly jerked back from the force of the vampire's blow and the bitter tang of blood spread on his tongue from where his own teeth had cut into flesh.

Raggedly breathing, head lolling forward and mind spinning in and out of control, Sam tried to gather his bearings, when a hand suddenly fisted his brown bangs and brutally twisted his face to the side, exposing his neck.

"You think the needles were bad, you good-fer-nothing, whiny little bitch?" Benny hissed into his ear, the sound of his voice causing the hair on Sam's neck to prickle with unease.

A few droplets of Benny's blood dripped down onto Sam's shirt and soaked the fabric, the tickle of Benny's breath and the way the vampire's fingers were carded through his hair leaving him squirming with unease.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Sammy boy," Benny leaned in close, nose ghosting over the stretch of skin between Sam's shoulder blade and neck, sending a violent shiver down the younger man's spine.

"_Get off me_—" Sam ground out, nostrils flaring, chest heaving, but there was no escape, no way to keep the vampire from doing whatever he wanted.

"I could turn you, you know… could make you my blood-brother - my personal lapdog- ready to tend to my every wish until the end of time… and forced to feed on all these beloved _innocents _you fought so hard to keep safe."

"Never," Sam sneered, shaking his head despite the sharp pain that shot through his scalp at the way his hair tufts were strained. He said it with every bit of conviction and strength he had left in him, meant it with every single cell in his body. "I'd take a silver bullet to the scull first."

"Then how about I turn your beloved boyfrie—" Benny cleared his throat, openly teasing him. "_My bad_\- I meant brother—how about I take Deano over there and make him my familiar? You be willing to take a silver bullet to _**his**_ skull too?"

Sam viciously tugged at his bonds once again, snarling in rage when they didn't give an inch. "Fucking Bastard," he snapped, eyes glinting with unabashed fury as he glowered at Benny.

Blood loss was making him lightheaded and dizzy. He was panting, sweating and close to throwing up again, but none of it was comparable to the anger he harbored for that freaking vampire. He was going to rip Benny apart when all of this was over… and he was gonna make it slow.

"There's a cure… even if you t-turn him—"

"You won't be able to change him back after I'm done with you tonight… and given how pathetically easy it was for me to win his trust- given that you brother clearly doesn't have any other friends, I'd say it would be awhile before anybody noticed him missing."

"When Dean finds out about what you've done—" Sam shook his head, swallowing down a mouthful of blood. "When he finds out… you're not gonna want him by your side for eternity. I can promise you that."

Vampire or not- if Dean ever caught wind of what happened here- if his big brother found out that Benny had been torturing and blackmailing Sam for days before bleeding him dry, there'd be hell to pay. So much was for freaking sure.

Only an idiot would hype Dean Winchester up on strength and abilities by turning him into a vampire when having to face him in combat later on.

It would be a massacre.

"Think you got a point there, kid," Benny agreed, stubble scratching against the soft skin on Sam's exposed throat when he talked. "Especially seeing as how he's waking up just now to be here for the big showdown- right on time, like a true action hero… "

Benny turned around, smirking over at where Dean still rested unmovingly against the wall. "Welcome back, partner, how's the head? Feelin' comfy?"

Sam's heart skipped a beat, his eyes flying to where he had cuffed his pliant brother to the pipe earlier, only to find his Dean's head lifted up ever so slightly, eyelashes fluttering and lips twitching in the typical signs of an impending awakening.

"Dean…" Sam breathed out, fidgeting in his chair and straining his neck to get a better look at his brother, until Benny sharply tugged him back by the hair again, keeping him still.

"S'mmy?" Dean slurred, sounding groggy and slightly disoriented as he blinked a few times, trying to become aware of his surroundings. "'s going on?"

It took him a moment to clear his vision, but then it suddenly seemed to hit him full force- what he was looking at- Sam tied to a chair with a swollen jaw and a bloody cut in his lips, while Benny was hovering over him with a brutal grip on his hair.

"_Benny_?" Dean rasped out, sounding painfully confused and disbelieving at the scene that was played out in front of him. "What are you doing? What the hell is going on?"

Out of all the things Dean might have expected from Benny, finding him hovering over a battered looking, tied up little brother certainly wasn't one of them.

Sam saw the spark of awareness grow in Dean's verdant eyes as they roamed Sam's body appraisingly- taking stock of all of his brother's injuries and growing more suspicious by the second.

"Hey there brother, nice to have you back for the grand finale…" Benny drawled out running a teasing finger along Sam's bared jugular vein and licking his lips in unabashed hunger. "You wouldn't happen to mind me takin' a bite of your lovely boy here, would you now?"

"_What?_" Dean bit out sharply, suddenly wide awake as the reality of the situation slammed into him like a freight train. There was no mistaking the sudden surge of pure rage that twisted Dean's features and filled his eyes up to the brim. "Are you out of your freaking mind?! You don't drink human blood, remember? Sure as hell won't drink my brother's—"

A deep gurgle of laughter erupted from Benny's throat, echoing hollowly through the storage hall and coupled with his broken nose and the blood on his face- adding a grotesque villain-like flair to his devil-may-care attitude. "You still don't get it, do you Dean?"

"Get what?!" Dean wanted to move forward, only to find himself cuffed to a steel pipe. Sam could tell from the way his brother's whole posture was tensed up in fighter mode and from the way his eyes were tracking Benny's every move- that his brother already had a pretty good idea about what was going on.

"That the only reason why you're sitting here right now is because poor, grieving, dogged, Sammy over here—" Benny clapped a hand against his shoulder. "—was stupid enough to make yet another deal with a monster- obviously not having learned his lesson the first time."

"No," Dean shook his head fiercely, gritting his teeth. "You're lying! He wouldn't- Sam didn't—" Dean turned towards his brother with pleading eyes, begging for him to deny what Benny had just said. "Tell me you didn't, Sam!"

"Dean—" Sam choked, feeling his composure wilt and crumble under the accusatory look of devastation his brother was bestowing on him. "I'm so sorry... I should have told you—"

"_Why?"_ Dean growled.

"To save his big brother of course…" Benny explained, smiling cruelly over at Dean. "Or did you seriously believe I saved you out of the goodness of my heart?"

Sam clenched his teeth- hating the heart-broken expression on his brother's face- the way Dean had yet again been betrayed and deceived by somebody he had trusted- somebody he had considered a friend.

"Awww, hell, brother… you did, didn't ye'?" Benny continued to tease Dean, spurred on by the older brother's shocked silence and the utter frustration in his grimace.

Dean roared, trying to rip himself free with a vicious snarl as he shot an annihilating death glare towards the vampire he had trusted so completely without realizing he was being played. "You conniving piece of shit! You played me this whole fucking time! From the first second I met you, didn't you? The whole fake-friendship crap- saving my ass- getting me out of there it was all just because of whatever Sam promised you—"

"Aye, brother—" Benny tipped his head towards Dean as if to salute him for finally putting it all together and Dean bristled at the use of the nickname- suddenly unable to stand the treacherous vampire to consider him a brother- to consider him family for even just a second longer.

"What did he promise you in return for my life?" Dean asked with a steel edge to his voice, pissed beyond words at having been deceived so easily by somebody he had considered a friend. His hands were curled into fists from where they hang off his shoulders, still restrained by the steel pipe on the wall. "His soul… or his life or what? What the fuck did he promise you, huh?"

Sam swallowed past the aching lump that was stuck somewhere deep in his throat, dreading the revelation of what Sam had thrown into the pot.

"I'm a vampire, Dean-o, what do you think I wanted from him?"

And there was it- all laid out in the open.

Sam could see the exact second when realization crashed over Dean like a tidal wave, pulling him under.

"The needle marks..." Dean rasped out, eyes flickering back and forth between Sam and Benny. "The sluggishness… the nightly trips – you were giving him your blood, weren't you?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lower lip. "He said he was gonna drag you back if I let any-anything slip. Dean, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you- I just—"

"Shut the hell up, both of you!" Benny hissed, baring his teeth teeth like a snake that had been poked and prodded until it rose to an offensive stance, ready to launch an attack.

"_You sonofabitch drained my brother_?" Dean twisted and jerked on the cuffs, fighting to free himself with renewed fervor at the realization that Benny had hurt his little brother continuously during the past couple of days- doing it right before his fucking eyes and getting away with it.

"You bet I did," Benny grinned wickedly, never breaking eye contact with the enraged hunter as he leaned in to catch a wayward trickle of blood from their earlier fight from Sam's cheek. "Sold it too… out on the streets… price is high for the soiled demon juice your baby bro is carrying inside his veins."

Sam grunted in disgust and recoiled from the intimate gesture of dominance and mockery, struggling more frantically against his bonds.

Benny's pupils dilated, his breathing getting slower as the unearthly taste of Sam's blood spread across his taste buds, clouding his head and sharpening his senses.

"_You sick bastard! Get your fucking hands off him now, or I swear to god—"_

"What?!" Benny whipped around. "What are you and _**'god'**_ gonna do to me, Dean? Go on, tell me."

"I'm gonna _rip you apart_, Benny! You'll wish you'd never left Purgatory when I'm through with you!_"_

"I didn't get it at first, you know," Benny chuckled, lured in towards Sam's pulsing jugular vein once more, saliva gathering in his mouth at the sweet scent of the younger man's blood emanating from his skin. "How anybody could go nuts over a little bit of demon blood…"

His fingers tightened in the boy's hair until he winced and hissed in discomfort, Dean's angry rant growing even more frantic at the sight and sound of his brother's pain.

"But now I do," Benny whispered almost reverently, closing his eyes and licking his lips in anticipation. "He really does taste amazing…"

"_Don't you fucking __**dare**__, Benny—"_

Benny looked over at Dean's teary gaze- emerald eyes blown wide with helplessness as anger and fear for his brother's safety continued to rage inside of him.

"_NO! Leave him alone—SAMMY!"_

Then he ripped his jaw wide open and dug his fangs into the pulsating skin on Sam's throat.

**TBC...**

* * *

_Alright… so the cat's finally out of the bag. But don't worry- all is not said and done yet ;) Still plenty of Hurt!Sam and Angry!Protective!BigBro!Dean to come __ And there's still hell to pay for Evil Benny. Oh yeah and Sam might be a little worse for wear after the attack… Ahh so many things happening at once. Here's your choices for the next chapter:_

_**A)** Dean somehow rips himself from the pipe and attacks Benny but the vampire is all hyped up on demon blood. A violent fight ensues while Sam is slowly losing the battle for consciousness._

_**B)** Benny doesn't react well to the demon blood. It turns him into a more primitive and aggressive version of himself- ready to rip Sam's throat out but that's when more clients show up- lured in by the smell of Sam's blood. _

_That's it guys. Tell me what option you'd prefer or if you come up with an even better idea. __ Oh, and please don't forget to tell me what you thought about the update. Still up for more? Let me know ;) _


	8. Trapped

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 8**

**Author's notes:** _I know, I know, guys. It's been over a month since my last update and I am incredibly sorry for the long wait. The move to Vancouver messed with my sleeping cycle and by the time I had finally recovered from my massive jetlag, I had already started my new job and well…let's just say it's been a couple of very exciting and stressful weeks. Thank you all for having the patience to stick with me and this story despite the long break. There'll be more notes at the end of the chapter, but I'm sure right now you all just want me to shut up and quit stalling._

_This is another hybrid chapter- I got inspired by some of your amazingly creative plot suggestions in the reviews and decided to pick that plotline over the options I gave you. Hope that's alright! ;) E__njoy!_

* * *

Dean was screaming so loud his ears were ringing with it, boots scraping on the ground as he strained and thrashed against the cuffs that held him captive, trying to rip himself free. Cold steel cut into his flesh until the skin on his wrists was chafed raw and bleeding profusely, thick rivulets of crimson streaming down the slope of his arms and dripping to the floor in a tantalizing rhythm.

The pain didn't even register through the thick red haze of anger his mind was swaddled in, all he could see was the way Sam's face had grimaced when Benny's elongated teeth had sunk into the flesh on his neck- the way his little brother's tendons had strained and bulged beneath his pallid skin when the vampire's fangs pierced his veins.

It went against every single instinct he possessed to be unable to protect Sam from the attack- unable to shield his little brother from the pain as he was tied up and bleeding and completely at Benny's mercy.

"_Leave him alone you fucking bastard_!" he roared, slamming his shoulder against the unrelenting metal pipe in a desperate effort to dislodge it, but Benny only tightened his fingers in Sam's hair, continuing to drain his brother of every last bit of blood still pumping through his veins.

Sam's eyes had been open at first, pain filled and wide- never straying from Dean's, but they were only at half-mast now, every blink of lashes dragged out and dilated pupils taking on a distant shimmer of abandonment.

His brother was losing his fight to stay conscious- to stay _alive_\- right before Dean's fucking eyes and there was not a single thing he could do to stop it from happening.

"Let him go—" Dean demanded, eyes filling up with unshed tears of helplessness. His voice took on a pleading quality, throwing his own pride out of the window in a last desperate effort to protect his injured brother. Dread was climbing up his spine, paralyzing his body and numbing his brain."You're killing him, Benny- _Please_… Let him go!"

By some miracle his words must have broken through the drugged haze that had held Benny captured, because the next second the vampire withdrew from Sam with a pleased hum, eyes still closed as he wiped at his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand.

As soon as the vampire let go of him, Sam slumped in his seat, the only thing holding his drained and exhausted body upright being the restraints that bound him to the chair, head rolling listlessly to the side and blood oozing freely from the puncture wounds on his neck.

An unintelligible murmur fell from Sam's slack lips and Dean's heart nearly broke at the pained and confused quality of his tone.

"Sammy…" Dean croaked, trying to inch forward but being stopped with the tell-tale clink of cuffs against rusty metal.

"Sammy can't come to the phone right now," Benny said with a twisted smile on his lips, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed an unnatural shade of red despite the chilly breeze that wafted into the warehouse from the docks outside.

There were smears of blood on his lips and teeth and Dean's stomach turned at the sight.

This was his brother's blood.

Sammy's _life_ was clinging to the guy's teeth and the realization almost made him physically sick.

With the crumpled clothes and the predatory glimmer in his eyes, teeth and face covered in dried flocks of crimson, Benny couldn't have looked more like a murderous monster if he wanted to. And Dean suddenly couldn't for the life of him understand how he had put so much unabashed trust and value into a friendship with yet another evil son of a bitch who only ever wanted to betray and backstab them.

Somebody who posed a threat to Sam.

Somebody who wanted to harm his little brother- the most valuable thing Dean still had on this earth.

How could he have been so gullible and put a monster's word over his own brother's?

Sammy had done nothing but reach out for him this past couple of days, silently seeking his big brother's support and Dean had been too busy being in a huff over Sam not looking for him while he was in Purgatory to notice what was happening right before his eyes.

How could he have let that happen?

How could he not have recognized the tell-tale signs of blood loss when they were practically written across Sam's forehead in bold, flashing neon letters?

The dizzy spells, the weariness, the sallow, waxy tone of his skin... the signs were all there- laid out right in front of him, unequivocal and obvious, and yet Dean ignored all of them, unable to let himself get over what he thought was another form of Sam's indifference towards him.

If their father was still alive, he would rip Dean a new one for ignoring such an essential part of what he had always tried to ingrain into their minds- the Winchester 101 on survival, something they have been trained to look out for from a very early age on in their childhood.

Dean knew five different ways to suture a wound, could tell a sprain from a contusion with nothing more than a fleeting glance and reset a dislocated shoulder better than any fully trained physician from years of practice, but apparently he couldn't put one and one together when Sammy was falling apart by the seams right in front of him.

But Dean_ should_ have noticed.

Sure, Sam and him might have been in a rough spot for the past couple of months, but that didn't mean that Dean ever stopped worrying about the kid, or wanting to take care fo him.

It was his job to notice if something was up with Sam- and once again Dean had failed terribly at the task.

The guilt was crushing him, nearly suffocating him as he watched Sam's chest expand with each labored breath he struggled to take in- lips tinged an unhealthy shade of violet and face as pale as one of the ghosts they ganked on a regular basis.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl over to his brother's side and cradle him close and brush the sweat-soaked strands from his eyes, but unless Benny decided to uncuff him, Dean wasn't going to go anywhere soon.

"This is killing you isn't it, chief?" Benny gleefully stated, looking from Dean to Sam and back to Dean again as if to gauge the older Winchester's reaction. "Watching yer beloved kid brother die at the hands of a bloodsucker like myself?"

He thumbed almost lovingly at the trickle of blood that welled from the puncture wound on Sam's throat. "I gotta say though, it's less of a thrill when he isn't putting up a fight," The vampire brought his thumb to his mouth, licking the crimson droplet from his thumb with an almost obscene groan of pleasure and Dean clenched his teeth, jaw muscle working almost mechanically.

"Maybe I should let him recover just to see him struggle every time I'm gonna tab his veins. Might even get a few tears out of him if I'm lucky. Doesn't take a whole lot to get him to cry, after all."

Fury clouded Dean's every thought and painted his vision red and he mentally added another thing to the list of what he needed to make the treacherous piece of shit pay for.

It didn't matter that Benny was trying to provoke him with his words, didn't matter that the vampire obviously enjoyed rubbing in the power he held over their lives.

Nobody had the right to call his brother weak when Sam was actually one of the strongest people Dean knew. The kid had been through so much in the past years but he was still standing- still _fighting_\- still ready to give _everything he had_ in the never-ending battle against evil.

The fact that Sam wore his heart on his sleeve had nothing to do with strength- it was just part of what made him special, part of why Dean cared so much- of why he wanted, no- _needed_ to protect his little brother from dark, corrupted souls like Benny. Because despite everything that had happened to them- despite all their losses and setbacks, Sam had never lost his empathy, never lost his kind-hearted spirit or selfless nature. And that was a true testament of his inner strength.

So to have Benny standing there and making fun of his brother's pain when Sam had been weakened and tortured and essentially abandoned by the only person he had left in the world for the past couple of days, was the last fucking straw.

"Touch him again," Dean growled out low in his throat, eyeing Benny with the darkest glare he could muster. "And I will shoot your body so full of silver you'll be choking on it."

Benny held his unwavering glower, a sinister smile growing on his blood-smeared lips.

"So fierce," Benny chuckled, straightening back up with a roll of his shoulders and finally- after what seemed like an eternity- releasing his punishing hold on Sam's sweat-soaked strands of hair. "Too bad you'll never get the chance to make true on that promise."

Dean's eyes grew dark with murderous intent, skin crawling with the need to punch someone- preferably the smug bastard that was the source of his brother's pain.

"Why, because of your big master-plan to feed on my brother and then kill me ? And then after that- what's next on your list, huh? What are you gonna do when your drug supply dries out? When you're jonesing for another hit?" Benny's smile vanished from his lips and Dean went on. "I'll tell you what, once you go turkey on this shit it's game-over. There are no other kids like Sam out there. His blood type isn't exactly common."

"You're right," Benny sighed, crouching down before Dean on the ground and taking off his battered navy cap to run a meaty hand through his hair. "Maybe I'm just gonna have to keep him then, aye? Hook him up on an IV, wait for his body to turn the fresh blood into an endless supply of demon juice until he thinks he's never done anything else. What do ye say, Dean-o? Think Sammy would like that?"

"I'm gonna kill you, you fucking piece of shit!" Dean spat out, lunging forward only to be roughly held back by his restraints and nearly dislodging his shoulder in the process. He didn't even so much as wince from the fierce pain that shot up his arms and set his whole body on fire. All that mattered was getting out of these fucking cuffs and ripping Benny to shreds. "You touch him again and I'll make you wish you were never born!"

"You're all talk, brother," Benny snorted, patting Dean's leg teasingly before the older Winchester had a chance to react and getting up from the ground with a determined expression on his face. "I hate to tell you that, but I doubt you'd stand a chance against me right now- 'specially not with the way Sammy's blood makes me feel."

Chuckling, Benny spread his fingers in the air, ogling them as he flexed and relaxed his muscles, sinister grin spreading on his lips. "That new burst of energy pumping through my veins, sharpening my senses and making my skin crawl… It feels too fucking good for words, brother."

"_I'm not your brother_," Dean sharply corrected, blood boiling at the use of the former nickname, unwilling to let this soulless, corrupted bastard call him his family when he had done nothing but betray him from the start. "Don't fucking call me that."

"I'm hurt, Dean. After all we've been through together? After everything I've done for you?" the vampire mocked, clutching at his heart in a teasing gesture of shock. "After everything I've done for baby bro over here," he went on, teasingly running his calloused fingers through the auburn mop of hair on Sam's scalp in a mockery of affection.

The vampire brushed one of his thumbs over the swollen puncture wounds on Sam's throat, causing the young man to shiver and moan in unconscious protest and Dean's vision went red, something inside of him snapping at the sound of his brother's discomfort.

"Get your freaking hands off him, Benny, I mean it!" he growled, sending another futile kick to the metal pipe in bitter frustration and helplessly yanking at the cuffs until blinding white pain shot up his arms.

It hurt.

God, it fucking _hurt_.

But Dean was so far beyond caring. In that moment- with Sam's life hanging on a thread and Benny so fucking close to smoldering the very last spark of energy the kid still possessed, Dean would have gladly ripped off his whole arm if that somehow brought him closer to his brother.

"Don't worry, Dean. I won't kill him just yet. Gonna take one last gulp before we store him somewhere save for recycling purposes…" Benny's gruff voice was accompanied by a throaty chuckle when he turned Sam's head to the side, parting blood crusted lips to reveal descending fangs.

Dean stopped breathing, his heart no longer obeying the frantic orders his brain sent out- his throat had completely dried up with the terrible realization of what was about to happen.

Thoughts racing on auto-pilot, the blonde Winchester blurted out his next words without making the conscious decision to voice them. "_Elizabeth_."

Benny stilled his movements, going completely rigid. "Come again?"

"Your great-granddaughter, remember her? The one you wanted to protect?" Dean started, noticing the spark of recognition flare to life in the vampire's eyes at the mention of his last remaining family member.

"You're trying to tell me every single thing you ever said to me was nothing but a load of crap used to get closer to my brother - but there's one thing that you didn't lie about and that's her. She's your real blood relative and whether you like it or not, your feelings for her are just as fucking real."

"What's your angle with this?" Benny growled low and threateningly in his throat- Dean's earlier words sharpening his response with impatience.

Dean was barely able to contain the tiny flicker of victory that sparked in his chest.

The total lack of Benny's beloved usage of nicknames was just one more indication for the vampire's inner disturbance- one more sign that Dean's words were hitting right home.

"My _angle_," Dean spat out. "Is that you might be a corrupted, treacherous son of a bitch- but even so, there's still a part of you that feels… a part of you that's _human_."

Benny snorted. "Trying to appeal to my broken heart there, brother? You learn that from one of these shitty soap operas you like so much? Well, I can tell ye one thing, this whole guilt-tripping-crap is not gonna work on me, so you can save your fucking breath."

"Yeah well, I'm not trying to appeal to your conscience- I don't even think you have one," Dean gave back with a shrug, narrowed gaze settling on the vampire's skin like molten lava. "But if you keep Sam alive- he'll escape sooner or later. We might not have a ton of friends or family members left, but the ones we _do_ have- they're efficient, I can guarantee you that."

Dean's stomach was still in knots over their most recent losses, but if he knew one thing for sure, then it was that the few people Sam and him still considered as friends and family would eventually notice them missing and they would hunt Benny down and make him pay.

"You trying to threaten me here, boy?" Benny shook his head on a chuckle, as if he couldn't believe his own ears. "_Seriously_?"

Dean swallowed. "If you kill me and keep Sam alive, he will escape at one point and when he does, he will go after Elizabeth."

Benny was still for another second- eyes unblinking and whole body frozen in place before his frame started shaking with unabashed laughter, deep throaty rasps of amusement gurgling up from the vampire's throat.

Dean frowned, having expected a different reaction.

"So you're trying to tell me that this guy—" Benny roughly tugged on Sam's hair, jerking his head to the side and Dean instantly felt his anger return at the cruel gesture. "—the guy who told me that he'd take a bullet to the brain before he'd ever hurt an innocent soul will be going after poor, clueless Elizabeth in order to get back at me?"

Benny let out an amused snort of disbelief. "Something's telling me that can't quite be true."

Dean locked his jaw, blood slick fingers bunched to fists by his side as he tried to breathe through the veil of emotions that clouded his mind.

It didn't take much to recognize what a kind-hearted, gentle soul Sam was, but Dean knew the kid better than anyone else in the world. And there wasn't a single doubt in his mind about how far off the deep end his brother could go (hell, how far he _had_ gone before) whenever Dean had been ripped from his life.

"You don't know my brother, Benny, I already told you once that you shouldn't underestimate him- and that was generally speaking. With my blood on your hands? There'll be nothing left of her for you to bury."

Dean was only partly bluffing.

He knew of course, that his brother- despite all his faults and the bad choices he'd made in the past- was a selfless and sacrificial person- he was a hero, who would give his own life for a total stranger in a heartbeat if he thought it was the right thing to do.

His brother- when he was in his right mind- would never hurt an innocent girl like Elizabeth- didn't have it in himself to hurt _anyone_\- much less a young woman he had never even met before.

But there were only few things grounding his little brother to his good morals- and one of them was Dean himself.

So if Benny made true on his promise and ended up killing Dean, he wasn't sure how his little brother would react.

But a bloody rampage certainly wasn't out of the question.

After everything they'd been through in the past ten years- after all that pain and loss and depression- it only took so much to push someone off the edge.

And Sammy certainly had been wavering on that edge for quite a while now- especially with the way Dean had treated him lately- _god_, Dean had been such an incredibly ass without even knowing that this whole time Sam had only tried to protect him- tried to _save_ him by making that deal with the vampire.

And now look at where the deal-making had got them.

Sam was leaning heavily in the battered wooden chair- the only thing keeping him upright being the coarse rope that was wrapped around his torso and arms like a vice, blood dripping freely from the bite mark on his neck and skin tone slowly but surely turning into the greyish-blue of a corpse.

Every fiber of his being protested at the sight- wanted nothing more but to press his own fingers against his brother's sluggishly beating veins to ensure himself of the kid's frail but steady heartbeat.

Every big-brother-instinct he had ever possessed was flaring up inside of him when Benny continued to hover threateningly over his brother's unconscious body, seemingly wrapping his head around what Dean had just told him.

He couldn't believe- for the life of him- how he could have been so stupid- so gullible to trust a monster over his brother's word- to let himself believe in the mere potential of a friendship between himself and a vampire when the facts had been laid down in front of him this whole time.

The way Sam had increasingly become weaker over the past days… the way he had had trouble forming sentences and how he had desperately tried to somehow make Dean understand his behavior without outward telling him the truth.

How he had searched out his big brother's presence- something Sam only ever did these days when he felt like falling apart at the seams… how he had practically begged Dean not to leave his side- on more than one occasion only to have his big brother- the person he depended on the most in this world- turn his back on him in order to be best buddies with the monster who caused all this in the first place.

The guilt was almost choking him- making it hard to breathe around the egg-sized lump in his throat.

Dean gulped as if forcing down a pill without water, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"Tell you what, brother," Benny finally said after a long pause of contemplation before straightening up from above Sam's slumped form.

Dean relaxed ever so slightly, feeling even more relief course through him when the vampire let go of his brother's hair and stepped back a little from the chair Sam was tied to.

But his momentary elation was short-lived.

"I'm not quite sure what you were trying to achieve with your little speech just now- but I don't give a rat's ass about that girl… she ain't got nothing to do with me- family or not. We share nothing apart from blood."

Dean's heart clenched painfully in his chest at the words and not for the first time in his life, Bobby Singer's words of wisdom rang through his head, drowning him in wayward nostalgia.

_**'Just **__**because you're blood, doesn't mean you're family.'**_

Never had these words been truer.

Dean- valuing nothing more on this planet than the meaning of family- had never thought it possible that somebody could willingly put their own relatives- _their own flesh and blood-_ in danger until he had met his own grandfather Samuel a few years ago.

Now Bobby's words had been proven right for a second time, because Benny- vampire or not- might have felt something for the girl at some point, but whatever residing feeling of responsibility or belonging he still carried inside of that corrupted, tethered soul of his apparently wasn't strong enough to be used against him as leverage.

"And just by the by," Benny continued with a malicious smile on his lips. "Your kid over here… is about as intimidating as a baby in a straitjacket. I highly doubt he'll ever get back to a state where he could pose a threat to anyone. Least of all me."

Benny accompanied his last words by delivering a forceful kick of his steel-capped boots to the legs of the chair Sam was tied to and knocking it over in the process.

"_No_!" Dean's eyes widened and he gave an automatic start, whole body driving forward on nothing but raw instinct at the sight of Sam falling to the ground.

He was yanked back yet again by the cool metal slicing into his already frayed skin, warm rivulets of blood running down his arms and staining the floor with bright blotches of scarlet.

The chair tipped over and crashed to the ground with a loud bang, Sam's arm taking the brunt of the fall from where it was strapped to the backrest as his unresponsive body fell on top of it, his head making brutal impact with the ground.

"You're fucking dead, you hear me, Benny? _DEAD_!" Dean lashed out, face contorted in fury. His feral eyes latched onto Benny in an emerald fire of vengeance, but the vampire ignored him as he crouched down beside Sam and jabbed his boot against the younger Winchester brother's shoulder, jostling him to the side and revealing more blood streaked across Sam's cheek and temple along with some vicious swelling from where the vampire had knocked his little brother around.

"Last chance to say goodbye to your big brother, Sammy-boy… you got something you wanna tell him before he takes a dive in the ocean?"

A barely-there, weak groan of pain left the unconscious man's lips, accompanied by the merest flutter of lashes against ghostly skin.

"What was that, I didn't quite catch it..." Benny drawled out in his heavy accent, shooting Dean a teasing look before deliberately sending another kick to the unconscious man's ribs.

Sam, being too out of it to know what was going on around him- recoiled from the blow, whole body trying to curl up and mouth opening in a gasp of shocked agony.

"I'm gonna kill you, you fucking bastard!"

Dean was about to lose it, the sound of his brother's pain snapping even the last bit of composure he still held onto, but that was the sudden rattle of the front door caused them both to whip around when more noise drifted in from outside.

_"They must be in here, Frank,"_ a hushed voice rang out from somewhere nearby and Dean's heart kicked up another notch at the way Benny's eyes widened with instant recognition.

If Benny knew whoever that was, it could only mean one thing…

They had to be vampires.

Or even worse.

_Clients._

"I can smell the kid's blood, even from out here… Can hear his heartbeat too."

The rattling grew louder, accompanied by fists banging against the locked metal door from outside, fingernails scratching against the rusty material in a frantic attempt to get inside.

Dean swallowed, gripping the chain that connected the cuffs and straining with all his might against the metal, boots pressed against the pipe for leverage, but it was futile.

"Open up, Benny! We know you're in there with that demon spawn."

_Shit._

_Shitshitshit, goddamnit! _

Why did Benny's vampire junkies have to show up now of all times?!

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Dean hissed out from behind clenched teeth, ripping Benny out of his shocked trance as he stood unmoving above Sam's unconscious form and stared wide-eyed at the door. "_Do something_!"

It wasn't Benny Dean was concerned about.

In fact Dean hoped that Benny's clients were going to rip the bastard's throat out, but these freaking fangs were out for Sam's blood and his brother couldn't afford to lose any more than he already had.

And with the way they were both tied up and basically served on a silver platter, Benny was their only chance at surviving the attack.

As if on cue, the door to the warehouse was thrown open, revealing a whole group of pissed-off vampires who looked hell-bent on getting revenge.

Dean sighed and threw his head back against the wall in frustration.

_They were so screwed._

_**TBC…**_

* * *

_I don't know why, but this chapter was incredibly hard for me to write. I am still not completely happy with the way it turned out but at this I am just so sick of editing that I needed to go ahead and post this or otherwise it would probably take me another two months to get it published. I seriously hope you still enjoyed it, though. Here's your options for chapter 9:_

_**A)** The vampires attack Benny and somehow manage to overpower him. They notice Sam's frail condition and make plans to turn the younger Winchester brother so he will become immortal and can supply them with their blood forever. But that's when Dean manages to pick the lock on his cuffs and he doesn't like their plan one bit._

_**B)** Benny is too strong for the vampires to overpower him, being all hyped up on Sam's blood, and manages to single-handedly take them all out in combat. He is just about to kill Dean off when the older Winchester notices his brother's breathing difficulties. Benny is afraid that Sam might die and allows Dean to go help his brother while keeping him at gunpoint..._

_Well, that's it for now guys! Thank you for not giving up on me and for being so crazy supportive! Please let me know what you think about the update and which option you prefer for the next chapter. Reviews make me insanely happy so please go ahead and feed my addiction ;) _


	9. Tarnished by Evil

**Blood Pact  
Chapter 9**

**Author's notes:** _Oh my god, you guys, it's literally been MONTHS since my last update. I can't begin to say how sorry I am for the incredibly long wait. I know how frustrating it can be when a story never gets updated, but I hope you can understand that life gets in the way sometimes. My new job is very exhausting and I've been working crazy hours. I know that some of you are anxiously awaiting updates for some of my older WIPs and I can only promise you that I will get back to them as soon as I'm finished with Blood Pact. I have received plenty of requests for 'The bad guys know it too' and 'The darkness within' so I'll try to get them done first after this story is completed. Thank you for having enough patience to stick with me as an author and to keep track of my stories… This one is __**Option B**__. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Four of them.

Dean counted four of them in total.

Three guys and a girl, pale skin and gleaming eyes that burned with malignant intent as they stepped out of the shadows and into the dim glow of the warehouse.

"Well would you look at that..." one of the guys said as he approached the center of the room and slowed to a halt in front of overturned chair Sam was still tied to.

He walked with enough confidence to out himself as the clear leader of the group.

Dean felt his insides clench with the need to protect his defenseless brother, muscles twitching helplessly in his restraints. "If it isn't our best friend and helper, Benny Lafitte and his favorite chew toys."

The vampire shot Dean a sideways look, teeth glinting dangerously in the glow of the dusty lightbulb as he appraised him from top to toe.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen..." he said before sinking into a crouch next and lightly threading his fingers through Sam's hair.

Dean's jaw locked hard enough to crack bone.

"Don't touch him," he spat out, rattling his chains and wincing when they bit into his frayed skin. He was so sick of these bastards getting anywhere near his brother- of them hurting Sam right in front of his eyes while he was helpless to do anything about it. "I swear to god, you fucking touch him and you're dead."

"Don't worry," the guy chuckled darkly, hooded eyes tracing the dried flakes of blood on Sam's face before meeting Dean's murderous glower from across the room. "I don't play with my food before I eat it."

Stone cold fear settled in Dean's chest at the words, but before he could do or say anything, Benny stepped in from the side.

"Can't remember having invited you to the party, Ronan," the vampire drawled out with a slight roll of his neck, cracking his stiff bones in silent preparation for the inevitable.

The guy- Ronan- snorted out a humorless laugh, sending a glance over his back to the female vampire, who took the gesture as an invitation to step forward.

"And what about Alice and Jackson?" she spat out demandingly, jutting her thumb into the direction of the doorway.

It took Dean a second to catch up with what she was saying, but then it suddenly dawned on him. The vampires they had killed outside- the vampires Dean had slain right in front of the warehouse before Sam had shown up.

"Johnny and Kyra? Did you invite them to the party before you cut their freakin' heads off, you sick son of a bitch?"

"Nothin but self-defence," Benny shrugged with an innocent smile on his lips. "Consider them casualties."

"Oh I will show you casualties, you treacherous piece of shit-" she spat out, lunging for Benny only to be roughly jerked back by the group leader.

"Patience, Lydia," Ronan hissed, pulling her back by the arm.

She instantly fell quiet and Dean couldn't help but sigh a little in relief at the demure gesture.

This guy was clearly the head of the operation- the two quiet ones in the back were brainless henchmen- the kind that was easy to take out. And the girl? Well if the way his fingers lingered on her wrist for longer than necessary was anything to go by, Dean would say she and Ronan were more than just buddies.

_Good... this was good._

She was hot-headed too, he analyzed quietly, the hunter inside of him processed the information and stowed it away safely in a corner of his mind.

If there was one thing Dean had always liked about Vampires it was that they had a strong sense of community- they weren't soulless like demons.

In their own fucked-up way, they were still socializing with other vampires and forming bonds that made them vulnerable.

So if Dean wanted to take these bastards out he would have to go after the leader- and that would be easiest by going after the girl.

Only thing he needed to do first was getting out of these goddamn' handcuffs.

Dean gave them another futile tug, before letting his blood-covered arms sink back down.

_Easier said than done._

"Should we cut this to the chase, Ronan? 'Cause as much as I'm enjoying your dramatic entrance and all, I'm guessin' you didn't just come for good company and drinks..." Benny suggested.

Ronan and the girl exchanged a brief look, a silent conversation passing between them.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean noticed the two other vampires tensing up.

"Well, you see Benny," the vampire rolled the words off his tongue in a low purr. "We actually did come for _drinks_. The kind that only you can supply us with."

_Yeah, no way in hell these bastards were going to use his brother for their junky cravings._

"If you're thirsty you should try some dead men's blood. I heard it's to die for," he bit out, voice heavy with the kind of bite and sarcasm that had gotten him in trouble for as long as he could think.

"That's funny," Ronan chuckled, rounding Sam's defenseless body with languid steps, drawing out the tension, savoring his moment of superiority. "And not all too far-fetched, considering that your brother here is half-dead already. What happened, Dean? Doesn't look like you did a very good job of protecting him."

Dean knew it was a ruse- he had heard jibes like these a million times before and it was more than a little frustrating that they still got to him.

But the whole leverage-game wasn't just a one-way road. The bad guys had always known that their one true Achilles Heel was each other.

That nothing got faster to Dean than a threat against his brother and vice versa.

Sam was his _everything_.

And these bloodsucking sons of bitches knew it too.

They were holding his battered, bleeding heart in their hands and squeezing the life from it slowly.

Dean's features twisted into an angry sneer. "Oh, I take care of him, believe me. And when I'm out of these?" he lifted his blood smeared wrists to show the glinting metal that held him captured. "You're gonna regret having stepped into this barn, buddy."

"Maybe we should keep him," Lydia cut in from aside, her unnaturally blue eyes boring into him uncomfortably. "He seems fierce."

She was roaming Dean's body from tip to toe, eyes hovering over the laceration on his head from where Benny had hit him with the steel pipe earlier.

It was still sluggishly oozing blood- the raging headache that continued to pound away in his skull testament to how hard of a blow he had taken.

Dean was guessing concussion- but he couldn't be sure. He shivered a little at Lydia's scrutiny, recoiling from her unwanted attention. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you're not my type... maybe if you weren't a stone cold bitch from hell-"

"Now Dean," Ronan clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Is that any way to treat a lady? You'd think a man with your track record would have a little more class."

"Why don't you uncuff me and I'll show you how much class I have."

"I got an even better suggestion," Benny flexed his fingers, taking a threatening step towards Ronan. "How about you quit stalling and we get this show on the road, huh? How exactly did you think this was gonna go down? What, you waltz in here, get the boy and leave with him? Did you really think it was going to be that easy?"

Lydia pursed her lips, eyes narrowing dangerously as he crowded closer to Ronan. "Oh, it's gonna be easy alright. You're outnumbered, Benny. You'll either give us the boy willingly or you're going to get your treacherous little neck broken."

Benny lowered his head a little, white teeth glinting in the shadow of his navy cap. He was spreading his arms out to the side in open invitation. "Go right ahead, sweetheart. Give it your best shot."

Dean watched the whole exchange with silent trepidation, every muscle in his body coiled tight and straining to get free. He could sense it in the air- could see the determination written across the vampires' faces- the bloodlust that was etched into their features.

They had come here for Sam. And they didn't plan on leaving without him.

There was a tension-filled second of utter silence before Lydia charged forward and all hell broke loose.

Benny saw her coming from a mile away, lashing out with his forearm to ward off the attack and sending her back with a vicious punch to the stomach.

Dean winced at the sight and sucked in a shocked little breath when Benny grabbed the slender female by the shoulders and sent her sailing backwards through the room.

She landed ne the ground next to Sam with a pained grunt and Benny didn't get a second to recharge when the two male vampires lunged at him, sharp teeth extended and eyes ablaze with fury.

Benny grabbed one of them by the throat and slammed his head to the ground with a sickening crunch of bones. "Coming here was a bad idea..." he said in a ragged whisper while the younger vampire gasped for air beneath his suffocating grasp. "You must have known it wouldn't end well."

Dean couldn't take his eyes off his unconscious brother, lying sprawled across the dirty floor, blood still trickling from the bite wound on his exposed neck, while a ravenous battle raged on around him.

He was so exposed like this- so utterly unprotected that it made Dean sick to his stomach.

To think that Dean was part of the reason why Sammy was hurt like this was unbearable.

Hell, he could have prevented this from happening if only he had put his own brother's words above the ones of a monster like Benny.

Ronan pulled Lydia up from the ground and Dean flinched when Benny let out a blood-curdling scream after one of the younger vamps had slammed a rusty rod of iron through his hand.

The other guy was still laid out on the ground, chest barely moving and face ashen as his painful wheezing filled the air.

Benny grunted as he tried to pull the blood-slick metal bar out of his palm, but it was stuck in one of the wooden floorboards, leaving him trapped while Ronan, Lydia and the vampire who had attacked him crowded in on him from the side.

_Nonono..._

Dean strained against his chains, boots scraping against the floor in a futile effort to get closer to the scene.

If Benny got killed by these bloodsuckers, there would be no escape.

They would take Sam and leave Dean here to die- chained to a freaking pipe and stewing in his own juices, while his brother got used as a chew toy.

And there was no way he could let that happen.

"Damnit, Benny, c'mon!" he ground out, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.

Never in a million years would he have thought that he would be rooting for the sick son of a bitch who had dared to feed on his brother, but with Benny alive, he would have better chances at escaping- and even more importantly, Sam would have better chances at survival.

Because as unbearable as the idea was, Benny intended to keep Sam alive- he would be able to hold off on his blood thirst until Sam had recovered and somehow Dean doubted that the four other fangs would be able to show the same self-control and patience.

"Shut the fuck up," Ronan snarled with a pointed glower in Dean's direction. "You'll get your turn, Winchester. And so will your brother."

Dean's fingers curled up into fists, eyes darkening with a promise of violence. "I've said this before and I'm gonna say it again- any of you goddamn' bloodsuckers touch my brother and you are going to regret the day you were born!"

They ignored him, knowing the threat was empty and Dean let out a low growl, giving his cuffs a vicious pull that shot flaring pain up his arms.

Benny was still grunting and struggling to free himself from the thick chunk of iron that was protruding from his hand when Ronan pulled a machete from his belt and leveled it threateningly at the older vampire's neck. "Guess you should have listened to my girl, Benny. Your foolish pride is gonna cost you your neck."

Benny stopped struggling, face distorted with pain and drenched with sweat as he kneeled on the floor, surrounded by the enemy.

He glanced up at them from beneath the rim of his cap, letting his pain-filled gaze trail over every single one of them.

The blade of the machete was precariously close to Benny's jugular vein, ready to bring an end to his life.

"Do it," the younger guy hissed with a sparkle of revenge in his hazel eyes. "Fucking end him. What the hell are you waiting for?!"

"Yeah," Benny chuckled with a sinister smile on his face. Even from afar Dean could sense the tension that lingered in the air between them- could tell that things were going to go from really fucking bad to even worse in the span of a few seconds. "What are you waiting or, Ronan? Kill me, c'mon."

Dean wasn't sure what Benny was planning to achieve, but his provocations enraged the leader of the group even more and the blade slipped a little from his grasp, nicking Benny's neck.

Benny hissed but didn't try to move away from the blade as it sliced through the first layer of his skin and drew blood.

Dean frowned, his own chest rising and falling rapidly as he twisted in his restraints.

His eyes were automatically drawn to his brother out of fear of what would happen to Sam when all of this was over. And that's when he noticed the slight tremor in Sam's frame- shoulder muscles spasming under the torn fabric of his flannel in a way that could only mean one thing.

His brother must have regained consciousness.

Sam was awake, even while his eyes were still closed in pretense.

Dean could see it in the way the tip of his nose was twitching with tension and in the way his chest rose and sunk a little more forcefully than before, the breathing pattern slightly more erratic than just a few minutes ago.

He saw it in the way Sammy's fingers were curling up by his sides as if the kid was trying to steel himself for a fight and Dean shivered at the thought.

Even if Sam had somehow managed to free himself from that chair and lash out an attack, there was absolutely no way he could deal with a whole group of hyped vampires all by himself. Especially not after everything he had gone through.

God, considering how much blood Sam had lost it was a wonder he was even still alive- much less aware enough to strategize.

Dean gave the chains another useless jerk and let out a frustrated growl of anger when the pipe didn't budge from where it was screwed to the wall.

"I'll see you in the afterlife, Benny," Ronan said, lifting his blade to land a killing blow.

Benny squared his shoulders, eyes defiant as he held his opponent's gaze with silent resolution.

"You sure about that, chief?" he asked with a weird little glimmer in his eyes before slowly lifting his arm as if to show his surrender.

Dean's eyes widened in fear when Benny straightened up, chin lifted and one palm held up in the air while the other was still mangled and pinned to the ground by the metal rod the other guy had slammed through his hand earlier.

Ronan struck out, aiming for Benny's neck, but he had waited for a second too long.

A deafening noise filtered through the air when Benny's fingers curled into a fist and a shockwave of energy rippled through the room, sending the group of vampires sailing through the air with enough force to wreak havoc.

The girl hit the wall next to Dean with a sickening crunch of bones and didn't get back up, her neck weirdly angled to the side and her unnaturally bright eyes staring off into the distance without a spark of life in them.

She was dead.

The younger vampire was slumped somewhere on the other side of the warehouse, groaning after having hit his head on one of the countless steel containers in the corner of the room. He seemed to be alive...barely. But he wasn't getting up.

Ronan had crumpled into a boneless heap a few feet away from Sam's body. His eyes were wide and horrified as they took in Lydia's lifeless form and realized that her gaze was sightless and void of life. "Lydia!" he cried, grief etched into his features as he tried to crawl across the floor to where her broken body was leaning against the wall.

Benny grunted as he grabbed the iron bar with his free hand and started pulling the rusty metal from his pinned one. There was a gut-churning sound of flesh and sinew ripping when the iron rod came free and if Dean hadn't been holding his breath he would have probably gagged at the sight.

"I'm afraid she's a little out of it right now," Benny chuckled before tossing the metal to the side with a ricocheting bang. "But don't sweat it, brother. If she's the one for you, I'm sure you'll see her again in the afterlife."

"I will kill you!" the Ronan ground out, face turning a dark and fists clenching violently at his sides as he straightened up from the ground to ready himself for a second attack. "I will rip your fucking head off!"

"You can try," Benny said with a slight shrug. "But you won't get very far… see this kid over there—" he jerked a thumb into Sam's direction and Dean automatically tensed at having the vampires attention on his defenseless brother. "He's carrying an evil gene in his blood. He is a devil's child… tainted in every essence of the word and the blood that keeps pumping through his veins- it's making me stronger… better than any vampire had ever been… you might even say I'm _invincible._"

Dean physically recoiled from the words, feeling them tear at his heart and soul, a flood of memories overcoming him. His eyes automatically sought out Sam again and suddenly he wished his brother was still unconscious because even a painful oblivion would be better than to listen to the cruel words spilling from Benny's lips.

An irrational surge of fury barreled through Dean at the thought, his mind conjuring up images of all the times Sam had thought of himself as tainted- as dark and unworthy and evil.

The image of a drunk kid with shaggy hair and whisky-breath popped up in his mind- Dean trying to wrestle his uncooperative giant of a brother into bed while he kept babbling about his own impurity- about the darkness he thought he carried inside. Asking Dean- begging him, to end it all when the time was right.

They had been through a lot of shit through their whole lives, but for some reason this particular memory was one of the worst.

Because Sam had been so young at the time- so very compassionate and kind and gentle. And there had been fear at the bottom of his kid brother's eyes- far beneath all the self-hatred and confusion and anger. Honest-to-god fear of turning evil and unleashing a darkness on the world that he held no influence over.

Little did they know that this fear would be verified only a few years later. But at the time, all Dean could see when Sammy had looked up at him with these wide and terrified eyes, was a four-year-old kid with chocolate brown bangs and a toothy grin, asking Dean if he wanted to have the price in the Lucky Charm Box.

All he could think of was how a fourteen-year-old Sam would kneel on the tarmac of a highway and hold a battered and bloody street mutt in his lap, whispering nonsensical words of comfort to the dying animal in an effort to make his last minutes on earth more endurable.

He thought about how Sam wouldn't talk for a whole month after he had seen his first dead body on a hunt and about how he would crawl into Dean's bed at night, shaking and shuddering in his older brother's grasp as Dean held him tight.

And Dean would know- without a flicker of a doubt- that Sam had in fact NEVER possessed an ounce of evil in his soul- that he had never been anything but good from the bottom of his huge, girly, self-less heart.

His brother had only just been a few months old when Azazel had started manipulating his life and yet, here he was strong and capable, having survived the loss of both his parents, the love of his life and so many good friends along the road, but still fighting- still saving lives and sacrificing himself for the greater good.

So, no, whatever bullshit theory the world continued to have about his brother- or his family, Dean knew better.

He only hoped that Sam did, too.

Ronan let out a roar of fury as he charged forward with inhuman speed, front teeth extended and glinting in the dark, but he never actually made it to where Benny was standing.

Once more, the older vampire lifted a palm- this time spreading his meaty and all the air was knocked from Dean's lungs when another shockwave hit him full force.

The air rippled with energy, his whole insides cramping with agonizing pain and he could hear Sam's whimper from across the room- whatever it was must have hit him too.

Having already given himself away, Sam's eyes flew open, wide with panic and horror as he lifted his blood and grime covered head to stare at where Benny was grinning like a madman- his arm still lifted threateningly as the air around them grew with electrifying tension- an invisible force setting the room on fire and rippling its way through their veins.

"You feel that?" Benny grinned, lifting his other –gimp hand as well and clenching it into a bloodied fist. His laughter echoed through the room, gruff and smoky with the power rush and adrenaline that streamed through his bloodlines. "Feel that power- that crippling pain?"

Ronan's whole frame was shaking, his limbs jerking uncontrollably as Benny focused most of his power on the imminent source of the threat.

Dean could only see part of it because Ronan's back was turned to him, but there was something red slipping from Ronan's cheeks, along the side of his face until it started dribbling down his chin.

Blood.

"What the hell—" Dean gasped in shock when Ronan's spasming body slumped to the ground, a gurgling sound of pain escaping his shaking lips.

"_No_…" The broken whisper of protest had Dean's head whipping around towards his brother. "_S-stop it!"_

Sam had lifted his head from the ground as far as his restraints would allow.

_What was he doing?_

"Sammy, stay down!" Dean ordered, heart squeezing with terror at the way Sam fought against the ropes that tied him to the chair- wincing every time the coarse bindings dug into his skin. "Sam, stop it! What are you doing?"

Why would he try and turn Benny's attention onto himself when the vampire was clearly a ticking time bomb?

All Dean wanted for his brother was to be safe. To make it out of here in one piece.

He didn't care about himself or about Benny or anybody else… he just wanted for his brother to live.

But Sam's eyes never left Benny's as Ronan continued to shake and twist in involuntary movements and the air kept filling with a white, deafening noise that drowned out everything else in the room.

"D-don't do it… You have t-ta sto-op…" Sam gasped out, eyes filled with desperation and tears as he shook his head at Benny as if to try and convince the vampire that using his power was a bad idea.

Benny ignored him, the malicious grin never fading from his chapped lips as he slowly curled the fingers of his second hand into a fist. Dean choked around another wave of pain, head thrown back against the wall as his neck muscles strained against the intrusive ripples of agony.

Ronan screamed, a blood-curdling, deafening sound of horror bubbling up from his throat and then it was all over, the paralyzing pain that had held Dean's body captive slowly faded out into numbness and the burst of energy that had flooded the room only seconds ago vanished into nothingness.

Ronan slumped to the ground with a dull thud, his face squished against the wooden floor boards of the warehouse and it was only then that he realized that the vampire's whole face was coated with blood- his eyes hollowed out as if they had been burnt by an invisible force, black smoke curling up into the air from his mouth and the gory sockets of his eyes.

Dean averted his gaze throat clenching convulsively to fight off his gag reflex.

"Sam?" he rasped out instead, needing to hear his brother's voice- to reassure himself that Sam had survived whatever the hell had just happened.

"N-no…" came the instant response- weak and terrified and Dean felt his insides clench with the inert urge to help his brother- to erase the tremor of panic from the kid's voice and soothe his pain. "T-this is baad... evil... blood–"

Sam's breathing was too fast, his chest rising and falling with erratic speed and beneath all that blood, his face was a sickening shade of white.

It wasn't hard to tell that his brother was on the verge of having a panic attack and given what the kid had just lived through, it was kind of a given, really.

Dean knew Sam's reaction had nothing to do with the fact that the vampire had been killed gorily- even though the sight had definitely been a cause for nightmares, but it was the fact that Benny had used Sam's demonic powers to end Ronan's life, that had set his little brother off.

"Sammy, look at me," Dean tried to capture his brother's attention, tried to get him to turn away from the sight of the mangled vampire on the ground, but Sam was obviously too far gone to listen to his voice, his breathing getting faster as he worked himself into a frenzy.

Dean gave the steel pipe a brutal kick and nearly sobbed in frustration when it wouldn't move. "Let me check on him!" he growled, leveling a fierce glare at Benny in demand.

"He's fucking hyperventilating! You don't do something about it right the fuck now and he'll collapse, you hear me? And that little display of power you just pulled—it would have been your last time, you understand that?!"

Benny let his arms drop back to the side, sparing Sam an almost disinterested glance as he slowly came back from his head rush of power.

He made a step towards Sam and the kid's eyes widened even further, boots scraping the ground as he tried to scramble away in horror.

Dean knew Sam wasn't thinking rationally at this point, he probably didn't even recognize Benny's face in his self-induced panic attack- the effect of the blood loss adding even more to his current confusion.

But there was just something about the thought of Benny advancing Sam when he was freaked out and hurt so fucking badly, that had Dean lose his shit.

"Benny, I'm gonna say this once, you take another step towards my brother and I'll not only kill you, but I'll personally drag you down to hell and put you on a **_rack_**, you fucking understand that? _Now do I make myself clear?_"

Benny halted his movements, turning around slightly as if the words had finally been able to sink through his thick skull.

Dean had never wanted to wring anyone's neck so fucking badly- had never held so much hatred for one being- supernatural or not as he did in that very moment.

And he didn't even care that monsters were supposed to land in purgatory. Because Benny was going one level lower, no matter what- Dean was going to make sure that fucking son of a bitch would roast in hell for eternity and never make it back.

"You wanna get to your brother?" Benny teased, listing his steel-capped boot to nudge Sam's side and turn him over. He crouched down next to Sam's shaking body and made sure to hold Dean's gaze while he lowered a meaty hand down to settle on Sam's throat.

Dean tensed up against his own will, his whole body on edge- while his heart slammed to a painful halt in his chest.

Sam started gasping, a bloodied hand reaching up to clasp around Benny's wrist, trying to loosen his strangling hold.

"Fucking stop it!" Dean, grit out from behind clenched teeth. He jerked on his chains, watching wide eyes as his little brother's finger scrambled against Benny's blood slick hand, throwing his face from side to side in an effort to dislodge the vampire's grip.

God, he was dying…

"You want me to let go of him? Want me to uncuff you and let you check on dear Sammy-boy over here, is that it?" the vampire mocked with a slight tilt of his head, voice dripping with joy as he continued to squeeze the air from Sam's lungs in a clear show of power.

"Yes," Dean forced out, jaw muscle twitching with barely contained fury. His whole frame was shaking, fingers clenching and unclenching in mimics of what he was planning to do to Benny once he wasn't held back by the steel around his wrists. "Yeah, you goddamn' motherfucker, that's exactly what I want you to do."

"But Dean," Benny clicked his tongue disapprovingly, forcing a ragged gurgle from Sam's throat while the blood continued to drain from his lips until they turned a soft shade of blue. "That's no way of asking somebody for a favor, don't you think? Didn't your mother teach you better than that? Oh, that's right, I forgot…"

Dean pressed his lips together, feeling his body and soul tremble from the force of rage that surged through his veins.

He knew what Benny was asking of him and it took about every ounce of will power he still possessed to comply with the unspoken demand.

"Please," he forced out in a ragged whisper, letting some of his desperation bleed into the word as his eyes turned from furious to pleading. "Let Sammy go… _please_."

When it came down to it, Dean would give anything- do anything to protect his family. If there was one thing he had always known about himself it was that.

His own pride was nothing in comparison to what Sam meant to him and the bad guys knew it too.

"I believe you can do even better than that," Benny mocked, looking down to where Sam's eyes were half-lidded and glazed over, the awareness in them slowly fading back to oblivion, the sparkle of life in them slowly dying. "What do you say, Sammy, huh? Big brother can do better than that, can't he?"

"What do you want to hear, you sick sonofabitch, huh? You want me to fucking beg you, huh?" Dean ground out shakily, inching forward as far as his chains would allow as he tried to make eye contact with his brother.

Sam's pupils were trained on him and even after everything he had been through- Dean could see the meaningfulness in his gaze- could see the forgiveness shining from the depth of Sam's hazel pools- the love that resided at the bottom of it all.

Sam was beaten half to death- strangled and bled out and hurt in so many different ways, but here he was trying to reach out to Dean- trying to make his own death easier on his big brother as if he knew that his own torture was harder on Dean than it was on Sam himself.

"Alright, fine," Dean murmured, eyes never leaving Sam as he said the words. "I'm begging you to let him go."

He didn't care if it was pathetic, or if his father would be disappointed or if he had just kissed his family's pride goodbye. None of it mattered. Not if the alternative was a life without his brother by his side.

"You fucking hear me, Benny?" he beckoned as he shifted his gaze to the Vampire he had once considered a friend. "This is what you wanna hear, right? You've got me at your fucking mercy, you bastard. What else do you want from me, huh?! Now let me check on him, please… or he's gonna die and all of this will have been for nothing."

Benny waited for another second and for a terrifying moment Dean thought he wouldn't comply, but then he released Sam's throat and his brother started gasping and coughing, his chest jerking erratically as his airways fought for oxygen.

Dean nearly sobbed in relief. "Sammy, it's alright… I'm here, man… I'm right here, okay?"

He wasn't sure if Sam could hear him, but it was worth a try. He was willing to do anything to make this hell endurable for his brother- even if it was at his own expense.

"You'll get five minutes at his side," Benny explained as he straightened up from the floor, cracking his neck and dusting off his navy blue coat. "Calm him down and say your fucking goodbyes 'cause it's gonna be your last fucking chance, you hear me?"

Dean nodded his head almost frantically, holding his hands up expectantly when Benny came to a halt in front of him.

Five fucking minutes was all he needed. That bastard was going to go down. Once and for all.

"Oh and Dean?" Benny asked, lifting an eyebrow as he hovered with the keys mere inches from the cuffs' lock.

"_What_?" Dean bit out in a threatening tone, impatience dripping from his lips and making his eyes spark.

"I really shouldn't have to point this out to you, but you try anything- anything at all- and your brother's going to spend his next 20 years recalling the memory of how I smoked your eyes out just like I did with dear old Ronan over there, you got me?"

Dean locked his jaw, knowing the threat was realistic. He nodded his head once more, glaring at the floor as Benny worked the cuffs off his arms and telling himself that he would find a way… that he would work something out. But for now, his priority was getting to Sam- making sure he was alright.

The cuffs fell to the ground with a metallic bang and Dean didn't even allow himself a moment to enjoy the immense relief that washed over him as soon as the heavy metal weight was lifted from his frayed wrists.

He staggered to his feet, nearly falling when his joints popped and cracked under the strain of his weight and crossed the distance between Sam and him in a few long strides.

"Sammy?" his voice trembled as he sank back down to his knees next to his brother's tied up body and reached out to rest a tentative hand against his brother's pallid skin.

Sam was barely with it enough to recognize his presence, but his heavy-lidded gaze focused on Dean's face and there was no denying the spark of recognition that crossed his features when their eyes met.

"Hey," Dean said shakily, thumb brushing his brother's cheekbone in a display of tenderness. "It's gonna be okay, alright? I'm gonna get you some help…"

Sam's lips opened and his chest expanded slowly as he tried to force words from his lips and Dean gently shook his head in protest. "Don't try to talk, okay? Just save your energy, Sammy…"

"S-smmy..."

"What?" Dean frowned, shaking his head at his brother's broken attempt to form a sentence.

Was Sam starting to talk about himself in the third person?

Was he that far gone, already?

The thought sent a shiver of alarm down his spine. And Dean took a fleeting glance through the warehouse, eyes flying around in a panicked attempt to figure out a rescue plan.

Where the hell was Cas, when they needed him?

"S'my-" Sam coughed out again, lifting his fingers just high enough to brush them against Dean's arm in the merest of contacts.

"Yeah," Dean's worried frown deepened, even as he tried to cover up his own panic with a shaky laugh. "That's your name dude. Now do me a favor and shut up okay?"

"C-called m-me…S-am-my…" Sam's lips lifted up into a barely-there ghost of a smile and Dean's throat tightened to a point where breathing became painful.

"Hey, now," he said, voice catching a little on the words. "Haven't I always called you that?"

Even before Sam's eyes welled up and the smile on his face faded into a twisted grimace of grief, Dean remembered their brutal fights during the past couple of weeks… remembered every harsh word spoken in anger and the countless days spent in aggressive silence.

He remembered purposefully avoiding any interaction with his brother. Avoiding to talk to him, or eat next to him, or look into Sam's eyes even when they ran into each other by accident in the bunker's hallways.

He had been angry because Sam had been keeping secrets. Again.

And he had been hurt because Sam hadn't bothered looking for him while he was stuck in Purgatory.

Except that he had been looking AND making deals with vampires to save Dean's life, even when it meant that their brotherhood would be damaged to a point where Dean had even refrained from calling Sam by his beloved nickname.

"No…" Sam choked. His lips were shaking, his eyes glazed over with pain. "Not… any-more…"

"God, Sammy, I'm sorry," Dean shook his head, running shaking fingers through his brother's sweat-soaked bangs. "I'm so goddamned sorry, kiddo… I'm gonna make it better, okay? I'm gonna get you out of here... I promise."

Sam nodded jerkily and Dean knew it was partly for his own sanity- because Sam knew that Dean needed him to not give up- to show a spark of the kid-like hero-worship Sam had always regarded his older brother with. That boundless trust he had always had in Dean.

"You with me?" Dean asked, giving Sam a reassuring smile that had been exchanged between them a million times in the course of their lives.

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. No words were needed to convey the truth of his answer.

"Good, that's good..." Dean spoke softly, his tone reassuring and hopeful. "It's all we've ever needed, right?"

The sound of clapping ripped them out of their own little world and brought them right back into the here and now- reality hitting them like a slap to the face when Benny rounded them on the ground, having watched their little display with minor interest, looking almost bored by the two brothers finding their way back to each other.

"You know Dean," the vampire started slowly, looking down at them with barely disguised disdain. "Lying to your brother so shamelessly on his deathbed isn't the best start to work on your fucked up relationship…"

"I'm not lying to him," Dean pressed out in a sharp tone, eyes never leaving Sam's.

He was just about to say more- to tell Benny to stick his fucked up advice where the sun don't shine- when a blinding, white light suddenly filled the warehouse around them and a high-pitched noise caused all the windows to break.

Unthinking, Dean threw himself over his brother to protect him from the shower of broken glass shards raining from the ceiling as the light bulb burst into a thousand pieces.

For a second he just stayed like that, curled up around Sam like a human shield, while his younger brother flinched against his chest, fingers clenching around the fabric of Dean's flannel.

Dean had no clue what was going on- if Benny was causing this- if the vampire had decided to end his life with another surge of the demonic powers he now possessed, but then he suddenly realized that he had felt this force before- seen this light before, back when Zachariah had tortured Sam and Adam in that goddamn' angel room.

And after he had come back from hell.

_Cas._

It couldn't be anything else.

"Close your eyes, Sam. We're gonna be alright," Dean whispered, hoping with all he was worth that he was right.

_**TBC…**_

* * *

_Okay, my friends, we are slowly coming to an end for this story. One or two more chapters to go. Again, I want to apologize dearly for having taken such a long break from writing. I am going to wrap this story (and my other stories) up asap._

_Here are your options for chapter 10:_

_**A)** Cas appears and manages to injure Benny before he gets knocked out by the vampire. Dean grabs Cas' angel knife and unleashes his own kind of revenge on Benny. They go to an old army friend of John's to treat Sam's injuries, but feverish Sam won't stop talking about the evil inside of him…_

_**B)** Benny's body can't contain the newly gained demon power as well as he had hoped. The energy tries to burst out of him and makes him weak, which gives Dean a chance to attack. When all is said and done, Dean turns around to find Sammy has stopped breathing… He prays for Cas to save his brother…_

_Thanks as always for reading and for all your support! Can't wait to hear your opinions on the new chapter! And don't forget to vote for the next one ;) Cheers!_


	10. Red Haze

**Blood Pact**  
**Chapter 10**

**Author's note:** _I want to apologize to all of you for being so terribly slow with these updates. A lot has been going on in my life recently and I barely had any time to write. I moved back to Vienna and finished my internship in Vancouver, so I hope that with beginning of the New Year I will have more time to write and update/finish all my stories. In any case, I want to thank you guys so very much for your lovely words and support. I had to read through the comments again to count the votes and it made me smile so hard, my cheeks hurt a little afterward. So without further ado, this chapter turned out to be __**Option B **__with a slight majority of 31/30, but since it was another close call, I embedded elements of both option into this chapter. I hope you enjoy the read my friends! Oh and Happy New Year to all of you! _

_(Please heed the warnings at the beginning of the story- this chapter particularly, contains lots of violence and swearing!)_

* * *

Dean's vision blurred into a single mass of blinding white light, dazzling every object and person in the room with painful brightness.

The noise was deafening- loud enough to shock the blood in his veins and make his heart stutter with dread.

Instinctively, he tightened his arms around Sam- the urge to protect his little brother overpowering his sense of rationality and the fear for his own life.

It was a fundamental need that caused his blood to sing- something that had been ingrained in him from the moment his sight had come to rest his chubby baby brother for the very first time.

_"This is your little brother, Dean," Mary had said and smiled down at him with that soft, warm-hearted look in her eyes- the one that spoke of a pride and joy only a mother could possess._

_She had leaned down, blond hair falling openly over her shoulders and a whiff of lilies in the air, gently lowering the bundle of fabric and mewling noises down until a four-year-old Dean could see what was inside._

_"His name is Samuel," she had declared. "After your grandfather."_

_Dean had taken a hesitant step forward, deep frown etched into his innocent features as first laid eyes onto the squished face of his newborn brother._

_Even at age four, Dean could already tell that Samuel was too big of a name for someone this small- someone this fragile._

_Sam's eyes were wandering around the room with obvious curiosity until they latched onto Dean and he let out a gurgled squeal of something that sounded _suspiciously_ like laughter._

_"I think he likes you," Mary had smiled brightly, reaching out to card her fingers through Dean's baby soft hair._

_He took a step closer, encouraged by his mother's words and reached out to prod at the baby's limbs._

_"He's tiny," he commented with a frown, almost accusingly- as if he didn't really know what to do with a brother this small- this useless._

_It wasn't exactly like he could take him out to play hide and seek or to build a fort out of blankets._

_"That's cause he still needs to grow, buddy," John had laughed with a gentleness he was about to lose soon after._

_He had given Dean a soft look and tenderly ruffled his hair in reassurance. "And while he's still so little, we'll have to look out for him. Protect him."_

_"Like Superman?" Dean's eyes had lit up with excitement._

_"Better," Mary had played along, eyes twinkling. "You're a big brother now, Dean. That means you will always be there for Sam. For as long as he lives. And he will be there for you, too, and you wanna know why?"_

_"Why?" Dean had stepped closer, freckles standing out on pale skin._

_"Cause he looks up to you," Mary had said with a knowing smile on his lips. "Cause he loves you."_

_Sam's tiny arms had shifted as he gurgled and writhed in his mayflower blue one-piece._

_And in that moment- Sam's little fingers- barely bigger than a grain of rice had latched onto him, curling around his thumb like a vice and forging a bond that would last a lifetime._

_"Mommy?" Dean had smiled, never taking his eyes off his brother. "I think I love Sammy too."_

It was a memory to latch onto- a memory to draw strength from when they needed it most, so Dean held onto it with as much force as he held on to his injured brother in the here and now.

He bit his lower lip and whispered an unbroken stream of unintelligible reassurances against his brother's blood and sweat-slick neck, like the words could somehow mend him and protect them from further harm.

But then the noise broke off and the blinding brightness evaporated like fog on a clearing day- slowly dissolving into nothingness and clearing Dean's vision.

And when Dean blinked over at Benny- hoping to find Castiel with his angel blade and not finding anything remotely reminiscent of their trench-coated angel friend in the room, a little bit of hope crumbled and wilted away into dull realization.

Cas hadn't come.

He hadn't heard their prayers.

Nobody was here to help them and if Dean wanted to get them out of this situation, he would have to do it himself.

Benny was shaking, his eyes wide as if he couldn't quite understand what had just happened and the look on his face was pure shock mixed with incredulity. "What the hell was that?"

Dean slowly straightened, his own heart racing in his chest when he noticed the thick, oily trickle of crimson that slowly ran down the vampire's nose and onto his lips, coating his whole mouth a dark shade of red.

Benny was having a nosebleed.

Just like Sammy used to have them, after each vision.

Dean tried to sit up but Sam let out a pitiful noise caught somewhere between a moan and a plea, fingers catching on the fabric of Dean's flannel shirt as if to show his dismay at the idea of Dean leaving.

He was lacking the strength to physically hold his brother back, but the message was all the same.

It pained him to deny Sam this simple request when he was so vulnerable and visibly out of it- trying to reach out to Dean in a moment of confusion and pain, but at the moment there were other things to focus on.

Benny needed to be taken out.

Then Dean would take care of his little brother.

"Shh, hey, give me a moment okay?" he whispered, sending his words home with a reassuring squeeze to his little brother's damp neck. "I'll be back in a second, bro."

Fuck Benny for making him do this- for causing him to leave his brother's side in a situation like this, when he was already in so much physical and emotional pain.

And fuck Cas too, for not listening to Dean's prayers.

For not being there, when he was needed.

But then again, when had the Winchesters ever relied on anybody but themselves?

"What the hell is going on?!" Benny asked, ripping Dean's attention away from his brother. "What's happening?"

"You can't handle it, that's what! Sam's powers are too strong for you."

Granted, Dean didn't have a clue about what was going on here, either.

But that didn't mean he couldn't use the guy's momentary distraction to their advantage.

"LIAR!" Benny roared, bloodied spittle flying from his lips. His cheeks were flushed with anger and something else- possibly the newly acquired demon power surging through his veins. His stocky frame was shaking with the intensity of the white hot pain stabbing at his lids; eyes squeezed shut and hands curled into fists. "You're trying to trick me."

"That's right, I'm the traitor here..." Dean bit out. "Look, Benny, you're leaking blood. Even you must know that something can't be right with that picture."

"Just a_ side effect_," Benny spat a glob of blood to the floor. "You want to confuse me- distract me- to save your brother."

At leas one thing the bastard got right.

Dean's whole had revolved around his family and taking care of Sam- making sure his overgrown, kind-hearted, floppy-haired dork of a baby brother was fine would always be Dean's main priority in life, no matter what.

"You're about to die and your brother will live to see me grow with his power- he'll witness me take out everyone who crosses my path with a swipe of my fingers! And you are terrified of what will happen to him- terrified like you've never been before."

Dean's breathing was hard and heavy, skin buzzing with adrenaline.

"You're deranged…" he bit out through grit teeth- wondering for the one thousandth time how he could have been fooled into thinking this monster in front of him was an ally- a friend- a_ brother_, even.

In their line of business, it was hard enough finding people who they could trust- not just to have their back during a hunt (Dean had never really learnt how to trust strangers with his brother's life- doubted he would ever learn to do that), but also when it came to their own personal issues.

Only a small circle of their most trusted and valued friends had ever come close enough to Sam and Dean to be allowed even just a tiny glimpse of their own personal daily struggles.

People who had proven- over and over again, that they were trustworthy allies in the fight against evil. People who cared about them- felt some kind of responsibility for them like Ellen or Bobby- or maybe even Sheriff Mills.

People who were dorky and unique and affectionate like Garth, Kevin, Ash and Charlie...

The ones who have always had their backs- understood not to prod and how to give them space when needed and how to approach them openly even when they were angry or hurt or when they had their heads too far up their asses to recognize a good thing when it was right in front of them.

It was the people who had _died_, trying to protect them, the ones who had shown unconditional loyalty until their dying breath.

Those were their _real_ friends. Their real family members- even when their brotherly bond managed to trump that, too- surpassed even the greatest of friendships.

It wasn't exactly a secret that Sam and Dean came in a package deal and that there would never be anyone or anything on the surface of the earth to break whatever tangled-up, unhealthy, co-dependent relationship they had with each other.

You couldn't befriend one without befriending the other.

So naturally, whatever messed-up sense of responsibility or trust Dean had built up for Benny over their time spent in Purgatory, couldn't possibly leave Sam unaffected.

Not when Benny had managed a feat that nobody before or after Ruby ever had accomplished: getting between the brothers.

Benny laughed and his teeth glinted red in the dim shine of the light bulb.

His eyes sparkled with pride- as if he was well aware of the nearly impossible task he had fulfilled in getting Dean to pick him- a_ traitor_\- before his own flesh and blood brother, the person he had sworn to protect and love for as long as he lived.

"Why, Dean, you're hurting my feelings, brother… Wasn't that always something that united us? Our lunatic killer instinct? The need to protect others by hacking and slaying our way through the suburbs of hell? And most importantly…Our lust for blood?"

Dean shook his head, feeling a stone cold shiver wreck through his spine at the comparison of their characters.

Benny wasn't entirely wrong- Dean had always had a certain black-and-white thinking when it came to the job- had always shot first and asked questions later, especially if he had thought his family was in danger.

But he liked to think that his love for the job- and even the occasional satisfaction he took in beheading vampires or whatever else they were hunting at the moment- had never, ever, overruled his morals.

He had never harmed innocents and taken pleasure in it, like Benny did- hadn't killed for his own benefit or pleasure. Not even in Purgatory.

He had only done what was necessary to get topside.

Defended his own life and the lives of what he thought to be his friends.

"We were never alike. Not the way you think."

"Weren't we?" Benny raised his voice, chest puffed out and shoulders squared.

Some of the blood from his nosebleed had trickled down onto his dirty white shirt and slicked up the cords on his neck.

He looked like he was about to keel over and Dean silently readied himself for a fight, boots firmly anchored against the ground and fingers curled up in preparation for the inevitable fight.

"No, we weren't. Wanna know why?"

"Oh please, do tell," Benny mocked, spreading his arms out to the side indulgingly.

"Because I don't take pleasure in killing. I do it because I have to- because it saves lives. Because nobody else is gonna do it, if it wasn't for me. And you wanna know something else, you sick, demonic _fuck_?"

Benny grit his blood-coated teeth, looking every bit the satanic monster he had turned out to be.

"What?"

"Facing the kind of shit me and Sammy face on a daily basis? Going through everything we've been through? I'm pretty damn' sure one has to be at least half-crazy to do it willingly. So yeah, you're right, maybe we're both a little insane. But that doesn't make us _brothers_. It doesn't make us anything, you hear me? Cause, in the end, you're just one more hellish cockroach to squish under our feet. And that's what **_you're_ **terrified of."

Benny looked at him- his face unreadable as he took the words in.

Then he raised his palm, ice cold resolution settling on his face.

"I really thought you were smarter than this, Dean. It's a shame, really, the way our little bromance needs to end… And an even bigger shame you spent your time sweet-talking me while you could've said yer' goodbyes to your beloved Sammy."

He squeezed his eyes shut and the air started singing again, gusts of wind picking up speed as they rattled through the floorboards and cracks in the walls.

Dean could feel the change in the air- could feel the force of the energy that filled every fiber of his being.

There was no time to think things through.

He needed to act and he needed to do it now or else…

_'Forgive me, Sammy.'_

Dean let go of his brother and lunged forward, tackling the vampire around his midsection and ripping him to the ground. Benny grunted in surprise when Dean aimed a mean right hook at the burly man's face.

The vampire quickly dodged the attack and countered with a strike of his own aimed at Dean's stomach. He narrowly avoided the hit and managed to roll onto his knees, breathing heavily and slightly disoriented from the exertion and strain from his earlier injuries.

"What's that, Dean?" Benny chuckled. Of course, his opponent must have noticed Dean's sluggishness- the slight off-centered aim and weakness in his legs.

That's what getting hit over the head with a steel pipe would do to you.

"Pretty sloppy work for someone as strong in close combat as you used to be. Old age finally getting to your head, chief?"

"Big talk from someone who's a few hundred years old," Dean spat back, narrowing his eyes and forcing every last ounce of strength he still possessed into his limbs.

Straightening up from the ground, Dean was sidelined by the vampire's lightning speed as he stormed forward to send a brutal jab to the younger man's sternum.

Dean grunted and fell back, momentarily dazed.

"Don't worry Dean. I know it's just all these emotions getting to your head. _Guilt_ for not having been there for your brother when he needed you most. _Fear_ of losing him forever. That's always been your weak spot, after all. The thing to cause your downfall: emotion," Benny chuckled as if Dean attempts to hurt him were totally ineffective- laughable, even, before knocking his hands away.

The vampire's unnatural strength- his level of endurance and the incredible speed that drove his movements were all signs of the demon blood pumping through his veins and rationally Dean was very well aware of the fact that there was no 'natural' way for him to win this fight.

As if to prove that point home, Benny twisted Dean's arm to the side in a lightning-quick motion, nearly snapping the bone in two and Dean let out an agonized yell in response.

"I'll hand it to you, Dean- you certainly know how to play the tough-guy-act," Benny jumped up from the ground, circling Dean as he lay curled up on the dirty ground. "You'll strut around, acting like a hard-ass who never lets anyone in, when in reality one word about your so-called family is all it takes to reveal the tumbling, self-loathing, guilt-riddled mess of a man you really are. You say you're one another's anchor- two halves of a whole- _soulmates_, even, but all you ever do is fight and lie and deceive each other."

Benny spat a glob of blood to the ground next to Dean's face and drove his words home with a vicious kick to the injured man's ribs. The younger man let out a pained grunt, curling in on himself even more and using his legs to protect his sternum.

"You Winchesters are pathetic! You're nothing but poisonous to each other AND everyone around you. Your 'so called' love for each other has wreaked havoc on earth- has unleashed Lucifer himself and brought on the Apocalypse!"

Benny let himself fall down onto his knees with a dull thud- the sound of a few hundred pounds hitting the ground, vibrating through Dean's whole body and making him flinch.

His vision was blurred- massively so, Benny's face coming in and out of focus as he tried to straighten up from the ground, every single bone in his body aching and protesting at the movement.

"You think you're so special because of the fucked-up, codependent bullshit you two have going for yourself- and yet you completely failed to notice that I sucked your brother dry right in front of your nose- that I beat him up and took his blood and sold it to the highest bidder! Hell, I could have probably sold his ass too, if given more time… it's not like you would have given a damn'."

Something snapped inside of Dean at the words, a red haze of fury clouding his vision, his thoughts, the air he breathed- like an irresistible siren call for vengeance.

His whole being was overcome with the need to heap carnage upon this blood-crazed monster- the traitorous fucker who had dared to come after Sammy- more than once and thought he could get away with it.

_Oh, he was gonna pay._

Even if it was gonna kill Dean in the process- Benny would _die bloody_.

He smiled- leveling his opponent with the darkest of glowers- the one that was reserved for the kind of scum who wasn't going to live to see another day.

The one that bordered on lunatic- lips curled up in murderous pleasure, because one thing these bastards had NEVER understood is how war off the reservation both Dean and Sam had gone before- how far from human they were, despite all their good morals and the intention to help others.

See, at the end of the day, Dean had been killed too many times to count- he'd been to heaven and hell and Purgatory- had spent 40 years on the rack with Alastair, had seen more shit than most people can't even imagine in their wildest dreams and he had killed- broken necks and snapped fingers and reveled in the agonized screams of his victims until his soul had turned tinged with them.

And he had done it all for a whole lot less than somebody talking shit about his brother.

So, this time, when Dean's muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed- vision clearing on pure rage alone, Dean pulled back with a precision and speed even his old man would have been proud of and landed a lightning fast flat-handed punch to the vampire's throat.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Benny's eyes widened, mouth falling open in an agonized gasp as he stumbled, taken aback by the force of the blow and the sudden way his airways weren't cooperating.

You wanna hurt a guy- go for the groin first.

Wanna knock someone out? Right hook to the chin or object to the back of their head.

But, son, this is really important- if you ever want to incapacitate somebody? Go for the throat.

It had been one of his first lessons with his father. Nothing hurt more than a kick to the nuts, but if you really wanted to finish someone off, you would go for a collapsed trachea.

Benny was still gasping, face turning pale and lips tinged blue as he lifted a hand- trying to gather enough energy to smoke Dean out with his newly acquired demon powers.

"Not… gonna…work you fuckin piece of…shit," Dean laughed, swaying as he unsteadily rose to his feet.

Dean still remembered the time when Sam had used his powers all these years ago and he would never forget the way his little brother would be pale and shaky after each assault- practically drained of all his energy after the demon blood had tapped his strength.

Benny had only just taken these abilities on.

There was no way he was capable of pulling the same trick off a second time, so soon after what had happened with the other vamps.

But just to be on the safe side…

Benny had taken his weapons after he had knocked him out earlier. But what the bastard hadn't thought of was the little vial with holy water that was strapped to the inside of his belt.

Benny wheezed out an agonized breath- reaching for some kind of weapon in his bloodied and crumpled, blue, navy coat, but Dean was quicker- slamming the glass vial down onto Benny's neck and wincing when the thin glass splintered against his own palm.

"Christo," Dean hissed when the holy water started making contact with Benny's skin and his skin started steaming- the vampire's pained grunts quickly turning into howls of fury.

Remember son, when it bleeds you can kill it.

When it breathes you can smother it.

Benny was a writhing mess- with the blood already streaming from his nose and the steam coming from the sizzling skin in his neck and the growls of fury escaping his swollen throat but Dean just stared down at him in disdain- not an ounce of empathy in his gaze.

He flicked Benny's rumpled navy cap from his head with his fingers and grasped a fistful of the guy's hair, yanking his head to the side in a brutal show of dominance.

Leaning in, Dean took a steadying breath before whispering against the Vampires ear. "You know nothing about me and my brother._ Not one goddamn' thing_. And for what you've done to him… I'll. Kill. You. Dead."

Dean was so lost in his own fury that he didn't hear the door to the warehouse opening or the distinctive sound of footsteps echoing through the night.

Landing another punch aimed at the vampire's nose, Dean sent Benny flying to the ground- face barely recognizable beneath all that blood.

"Dean!" a gruff voice called out to him from a few feet away and Dean whirled around to find a certain trench-coated angel standing in the doorway, shirt and tie rumpled and hair a wild mess.

"Just in time," Dean snorted, kneeling down to hold Benny's lolling head in place for the final blow. "Got your angel knife with you, Cas?"

He didn't even look up to stare at their angel friend- just held out an open palm in silent demand.

"Now!" he bit out sharply when the angel didn't instantly move towards him.

"Dean, maybe we should—"

"So help me god, Cas, bring me that goddamn' knife or I'll come and get it myself."

The angel hesitated for another second, before slowly following the command and edging closer- the silver triple-edged sword in his hands.

"Dean…" Cas tried to protest once again, concerned expression on his face as he disdainfully stared down at the writhing monster on the ground.

Dean took the knife and tilted Benny's face to the side until their eyes met- Benny's glazed over with tears of agony, blood coating his cheeks and chin- lips blue from lack of air supply.

"This is what happens to the ones who cross us, _'brother'._"

Dean slammed the blade home with both hands- fingers curled around the blade's hilt as he drove it through Benny's neck, impaling the vampire on the glinting metal without a flinch of regret or hesitation.

A splatter of blood sprayed Dean's face and the knife gave a slick sound of cutting bone and sinews as it sank down with little resistance.

Benny's dying gurgle was the sound of blood filling his collapsed airways- and Cas sucked in a shocked breath somewhere behind his back.

Dean ignored it- face sculpted by stone and mouth set in grim determination. He didn't reach up to wipe the blood of his cheeks- nor did he try to remove his hands from the knife until he was sure whatever awareness had still resided in Benny's eyes flickered and died.

"Dean… your brother—"

Sure enough, these were the words to rip Dean out of his trance. Blinking slowly- Dean ripped the knife free from Benny's dead body and wiped ineffectively at the blood with his shirt before handing it back to Cas with trembling fingers.

The full effect of his own blood loss and concussion were barely held in check by the adrenaline and shock coursing through his veins, but somehow Dean managed to crawl over to Sam's still form, dread pooling in his stomach at the way his brother hadn't even moved since he had left his side.

"S-sammy?" Dean reached out to touch Sam's neck and then instantly stilled- eyeing the blood on his own fingers with a pained grimace. It felt wrong to touch his brother soiled like this- dirty with his tormentor's blood and clinging to his skin like the guilt over what Dean had failed to notice.

"Sam?" he urged, overcoming his surge of insecurity with a sucked in breath of raw panic, as he wrapped shaking fingers around his brother's throat to look for a pulse. "No, no, no…_ c'mon_."

"Dean?" Cas asked in a concerned voice- hovering close by.

Dean barely heard the angel's voice over the sound of his own frantic heartbeat- the static of the blood rushing to his ears and making him hazy.

He couldn't feel a pulse- Sam's skin was clammy to the touch… cold with old sweat and lack of blood circulation.

No.

"Sam!" Dean's voice broke when he started shaking his brother's shoulders- Sam's head flopping to the side as he was gruffly jerked around. "SAMMY!"

"Dean, this is not helping him—"

"He's not breathing- he's not—there's no pulse—" Dean stammered, unaware of the tears building up in his green eyes- or the way his chest started heaving for breath, making it hard for him to get the words out.

"He's not dead, Dean! I can feel his presence… he's still… it's barely there, but he's still alive."

The words didn't instantly register in Dean's grief-stricken mind, his thoughts and heart muddled with a mixture of panic and all-consuming worry, but then it hit him full force.

"W-what?"

Sam wasn't completely lost to him yet.

His brother was still alive somewhere in there.

Dean stilled his movement, eyes frantically running over Sam's crumpled, beaten and bloody body as if he could somehow fix all of this just by wanting it hard enough- just by staring at Sam's pale face and running fingers over the stupid black sweater that used to be Dean's a long time ago.

And then, Dean was a flurry of movements and muttered reassurances- ordering Cas to help him get that stupid sweater off his brother's too bony shoulders and help arrange his unresponsive limbs into a helpful position.

The moves came instinctively to him- he had done it all before- the heels of his hands settling almost automatically over Sam's heart as Dean used his upper body weight to push hard down on his brother's chest.

…_twenty- twenty-one- twenty-two…_

"I need you to elevate his head, but be c_areful_, you hear me?"

…_twenty-eight- twenty-nine- thirty…_

Cas did was he was being told- deftly ignoring the scowl he received from Dean for not being careful enough with his precious cargo, but the older Winchester knew better than to say anything.

He let go of Sam's chest and clasped his brother's face- tenderly tilting the head back and lifting his chin with his other hand until Sam's lax mouth fell open.

And say what you fucking want about them and their brotherhood- but Dean would go back to hell for Sam on the spot- no questions asked, would sign himself over to Alastair or Crowley, or even Lucifer himself.

Even after everything, this was something that had never changed over the years- he would still do ANYTHING for his brother without a second's hesitation.

Pinching Sam's nostrils shut, Dean gave him two rescue breaths, feeling his brother's chest rise with the force of them and then leaning back to continue with chest compressions.

"he still in there?" Dean asked breathlessly, eyes flickering up to their angel friend for the merest of seconds before his gaze was drawn back to Sam's ashen features.

"Feebly… my grace won't suffice to give me more information on his condition."

"C'mon, Sammy, c'mon," Dean muttered desperately, feeling his brother's ribs giving way to the consistent pressure of the compressions. He had probably cracked one or two, but that was par for the course… as long as his brother's goddamn' heart would kick back to life, Dean was willing to make that sacrifice. "Come back to me, man… _please_—"

Sam gasped- his whole body jerking in Dean's grasp as his chest expanded by itself, breath of life surging through him from head to toe.

And Dean couldn't believe his own eyes- had never heard anything more beautiful in his life, than the sound of Sam's hacked off- pained wheezes for air.

Just this once, Sam's pain was acceptable- wanted even, because it meant his brother was alive and whole and back with Dean.

"Hey, hey… shh... it's okay, you're gonna be okay," Dean edged closer, placing a steadying palm against Sam's chest- right over his frantic heart as if to try and calm it down.

"D-de'?" Sam's face was scrunched up in confusion- cold sweat running down his temples and making him shiver. Dean grasped the discarded sweater they had taken off of him earlier and covered Sam's torso with it as best as he could.

"Help me get him up, Cas… we need to get him to the car."

"Dean… I don't think moving him around too much is a good idea."

"You got a better suggestion?! I'm all ears, Cas!"

Rationally, Dean knew Cas wasn't to blame for what happened. The angel was weakened, didn't have enough grace to zap himself anywhere- least of all, him and Sammy.

And in hindsight, that was probably also the reason why it had taken so long for him to show up.

But Dean was so goddamn' angry and disappointed with himself for having failed his little brother so badly- for nearly having lost him, that it didn't even matter.

It was hard to contain all that guilt and self-loathing and Cas was an easy target, even if he didn't deserve all that hate.

Telling himself to calm down, Dean clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in concentration.

Sam was still gasping and coughing against his side- trembling fingers clawing against the side of Dean's waist. "D-D'n…"

"Right here, Sammy. I'm right here with you, man."

They would carry Sam to the car and get the hell out of here, leave this whole bloody massacre behind.

Hospitals weren't really in the cards for them right now, but with all the blood Sam had lost, he would definitely need medical attention.

"My dad used to have an old army friend… O'Boyle… he worked for a medical center about 20 miles from here. He's not the most pleasant of fella's but he should be able to help some… especially with the blood loss."

He wasn't sure who he was talking to- it wasn't exactly like Sam was with it enough to notice what was going on around him or like Cas had any clue about the human anatomy.

But Dean had always been a loud thinker- it helped him to put things together in his mind and say them out loud in order to picture them and clue stuff together.

Dean was about 80% sure that O'Boyle had sworn he'd snap John Winchester's neck the next time he would see him after an unpleasant encounter had ended in a pretty bad fight between them, but it wasn't like he was the first to hold a grudge against their father.

And Dean had always had a way with words.

He would think of something to tell that grouchy old bastard- think of a way to talk him into helping them and then they would fix up Sam.

First physically… then mentally, because if Dean knew his brother at all- he knew that everything that had just happened with Benny would have one hell of an aftermath.

It had brought up old, long-forgotten and much-hated memories about the demon blood- about the 'dark' side of Sam's psyche and the way his whole damn' life had been orchestrated by evil.

It had brought up Purgatory and the fact that Dean had outwardly 'chosen' a treacherous, manipulative vampire over his own flesh and blood brother.

Dean swallowed- throat burning and eyes stinging with tears.

There was so much to talk about- so many goddamn' things he wanted to tell Sam- but he didn't even know where to start fixing things this time and if his brother would even still accept an apology coming from his mouth after everything that had happened.

"Dean," Sam whispered, glazed eyes lifting sluggishly to meet his gaze and bloody fingers brushing Dean's hand tentatively- almost searchingly. "'M cold…"

Shock had set in.

It was the blood loss.

Dean grasped Sam's sweaty, cold fingers in his own and squeezed, willing some of his own waning strength into his brother's body. "It's okay… Cas and me- we're gonna get ye' some help, alright? We're gonna get you all patched up."

Cas shuffled nervously beside them- like a third wheel that was being left out of an important conversation. "Should we get going?"

"Yeah," Dean rasped out and then- in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection, leaned over to press a fleeting kiss to the top of Sam's head, before sniffing and ruffling his brother's hair. "Let's get you out of here, buddy."

_**TBC...  
**_

* * *

_Sooo…. Benny was an evil sonofabitch, huh? He shouldn't have messed with our boys. ;) And because I'm such an evil writer- I'm going to throw more protective!big!bro Dean on top of it in the next chapter and make O'Boyle a bit of a bastard. Sorry for all the blood and gore- and of course also for the embarrassingly long wait. Thank you all SOOO much for reviewing and sticking with the story!_

_Here are your options for the LAST chapter:_

_**A)** O'Boyle refuses to let the boys into his doctor's office until Dean threatens him with a gun. He doesn't have Sam's blood type and wants to use it as an excuse to get rid of the Winchesters- but Dean is O negative- which means he is an eligible donor. While the doctor works around them, Sam and Dean have a heart to heart…_

_**B)** Sam is in a really bad shape by the time they reach the medical center. O'Boyle is willing to help them out, but he's also a PTSD crazed veteran who hasn't been working in years and a general lack of empathy. He gets a little too gruff and in his fever haze, Sam thinks he's back with Benny. Dean gets to see the full extent of the damage his brother has endured and tries to calm him down…_

_I really hope you enjoyed the update and that you are excited for the end of the story! Please don't forget to drop me a line or two and to vote one last time! Reviews make me incredibly happy! :D _


	11. Black and White

**Blood Pact**  
**Chapter 11**

**Author's note:** _Alright everyone. Here it is: THE LAST CHAPTER. I want to thank you all for being so amazingly patient with me and for contributing so much to making this a really cool story with many twists and turns. It feels more like teamwork than anything else and I'm incredibly thankful for all the constructive criticism and the ideas you shared with me in the commentaries. Now without further ado… this is Option B with a tiny bit of Option A and I hope you all enjoy it!_

* * *

Dean was eying the crumbling mass of desolation that was the building's outside façade- big neon-colored letters flickering uninvitingly from where they were lined out above the double-winged door of the clinic.

The dirty window frames were colored a sickening shade of mint green- the dusty glass panes reflecting the pale moonlight as Dean jogged up the stairs to the entrance and hammered his knuckles against the chipped mahogany door.

"O'Boyle, open up!"

"Dean, maybe you should lower your voice," Cas suggested, shooting a nervous glance around the neighborhood, but all Dean could think about was that his little brother's blood was decorating the inside of his car and saturating his own clothes- which meant that he honestly couldn't care less about waking the damn neighbors.

His kid brother was bleeding out on the backseat of the Impala because of someone Dean had brought into their lives- someone Dean had trusted- someone he had considered a _brother_\- so everyone else could just shut the hell up until Sam was taken care of.

He had called O'Boyle at least thirty times on the way here- rattling off a list of injuries and things the guy was gonna need- antiseptics, alcohol, cotton pads, clean gauze, dental floss or surgical silk and a thin needle for the stitches.

And the guy had grudgingly given Dean his address over the phone, sounding more grumpy about having to help them out than anything else.

His words had been running together into a deep slur and Dean really fucking hoped it was due to lack of sleep and not because the good doctor had drowned half a bottle of Jack prior to their phone conversation.

"O'Boyle I swear to god if you don't open up right this second—"

Dean was about two seconds away from kicking the door in, when it was finally opened with a rusty squeak, revealing a guy in his late fifties, grayish hue to his wrinkled features and a skeptic expression on his face. "Winchester."

Under different circumstances, Dean would have probably pretended to be happy about this little reunion- would have put on his best fake smile and patted the older man's shoulder in fake friendliness.

But Sam's life was hanging on a thread and Dean couldn't bring himself to play the pretense game when every second they wasted brought Sam closer to the dark abyss of no return.

"My brother's still in the car. Can you help me carry him inside?"

O'Boyle opened the door just wide enough to reveal himself and Dean swallowed when his gaze dropped down to the wooden cane the older man was leaning on like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Afraid I won't be of much help there, boy."

"What happened?" Dean grimaced.

"Kelpie used my leg as a chew toy," O'Boyle shrugged like it was no big deal.

He hobbled to the side, grunting a little as he dragged his bum leg behind and Dean couldn't help but wonder if the guy had even gotten treatment for that one or if he'd just decided to patch himself up at home.

He really hoped O'Boyle was more careful with his other patients because there was no way in hell, Dean was going to sit by and watch O'Boyle butcher his brother up like that.

"Alright, I got it. Just hold the door open, okay?"

Charging down the stairs, Dean opened the door to the backseat of the Impala and motioned for Cas to take the other side. "Go grab his legs. Careful, though."

Sam was curled up and shivering, his face ghostly pallid against the black leather of the backseat.

He had passed out on their drive here, shock and blood-loss finally taking their toll on his battered body and Dean instinctively pressed two shaking fingers against his brother's throat to check for a pulse.

He just waited long enough to feel the sluggish beat of Sam's heart against his fingertips before he withdrew them again with a shaky sigh and slipped his arms around his brother's waist.

Sam's head flopped forward against the jut of his collarbone and Dean reached up to gently cradle the back of his brother's neck as they worked Sam's unresponsive, pliant body out of the car and into the cool night.

Dean's fingers must have brushed the incision mark on Sam's neck, from where Benny had bitten him because even lost in unconsciousness Sam let out a pained little sound and tried to withdraw from the touch.

"Shhh… I'm sorry… I'm sorry. It's just me."

Sam calmed down almost instantly at the sound of his older brother's voice, an instinct that was ingrained in him from the earliest stages of his childhood.

Even if Dean didn't deserve his brother's trust; not after what had happened at the docks.

Not after Dean had played best friends with his own brother's tormentor, unbeknownst to the fact that Sam was getting hurt right in front of his eyes.

Dean swallowed, decidedly shoving the bitter thoughts aside.

This wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity and contempt.

Sammy needed him.

"You got him?" Dean asked sharply at the way Cas seemed to struggle with the weight of Sam's lower half and Cas grunted out something intelligible in response.

They both carried Sam up the steps to O'Boyle's porch and followed the older man inside the old clinic.

The smell of antiseptics and hand sanitizer was strangely comforting and Dean was glad to see the various rows of glass cabinets filled with what looked like medical equipment and medicine, even when most of the furniture was covered in grime and dust.

"Where to?" Dean asked O'Boyle, hitching his brother's torso up a little higher in his hold and resettling his grip.

Sam was surprisingly light in his grasp and Dean could tell that it wasn't just because Cas helped him with the burden.

His brother had lost weight over the past couple of weeks.

He had lost weight because he had gotten blackmailed by a monster- Sam he hadn't been able to sleep or eat or do anything else in the wake of Benny's torment and Dean hadn't even noticed.

How could he have been so blind- so ignorant to the fact that his brother had been wasting away?

Living practically in one another's pockets with all the motel rooms they shared and spending hours on end inside the Impala whenever they worked a case had practically annihilated any sort of privacy between Dean and his brother.

Much to both of their dismay, there really wasn't any way to see the other one naked- or bare-chested sometimes. And even if he wouldn't be caught dead saying it out loud, Dean had made sure to pay attention to his brother's physique- checking whether the kind had enough meat on his overgrown bones. Checking for any injuries his brother might have failed to inform him about. Checking for older wounds and their healing process.

And sometimes, looking at the scars littering Sam's arms and torso, counting them, memorizing them, because they were like a track record of all the times Dean had somehow failed his little brother- all the times he hadn't been there to keep Sam from getting hurt.

"Over here," O'Boyle led them into one of the adjacent rooms with fluorescent lighting and white tiles lining the walls. It looked like an old operating room and Dean felt a cold shiver wrack his spine at the air of grief and cold detachment that lingered in the air.

He hoisted Sam's unresponsive body up onto the clinic table and instantly reached out to brush the sweat-soaked bangs from his brother's forehead in a tender gesture of reassurance. "You'll be alright, Sammy. You're gonna be just fine, you hear me?"

"Get out of the way," O'Boyle placed a meaty hand on Dean's shoulder and firmly pushed him aside, taking up a stance right in front of Sam's face. He was carrying a small med kit in his other hand- a dirty little metal casket that looked like had seen better days.

"What are we dealing with?" O'Boyle asked low in his throat, sounding less than enthusiastic about having to stitch Sam back together.

Dean scowled at him from where he was taking up a new spot right next to the cot and reached out to entwine his hand with Sam's.

His brother's long fingers were chilled.

They needed to get him hooked on a couple of O-negatives and they needed to be quick.

"Blood loss, mostly… he uh- he got bitten by a vamp."

O'Boyle's hands stilled almost instantly where they had been prodding at Sam's face and his gaze shot over at Dean in a mix of shock and annoyance. "You bring your vamp-infected brother to my damn clinic? Do you want to kill us all, boy?"

Dean forced himself to take a deep breath and stay calm.

Bashing the guy's face in wouldn't help Sam. They needed the guy in one piece.

"He didn't get infected. Look, can you just do your fucking job and take care of him?"

It was the wrong thing to say.

Lightning fast, O'Boyle pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and trained it on Dean, eyes sparking furiously as his fingers tightened on the trigger.

"Woah, easy…" Dean's heart skipped a beat and he tentatively raised both of his hands in the air, sending a fleeting glance over at Cas. The angel was equally baffled by the older man's reaction, mirroring Dean's gesture of surrender. "Take the gun down, alright? Let's talk about this."

"You think you can just show up on my doorstep when you're brother's been used as vamp chow? Who tells me the boy isn't going to turn hallway through the check-up, huh? You seriously expect me to risk my damn ass for a _Winchester_?"

Dean clenched his teeth, jaw muscle ticking in barely suppressed anger.

If looks could kill he was pretty sure their conversation would have been ended then and there.

Was that guy demented or something? Had he forgotten all about the hunting life? All about the fucking lore? Or maybe he'd never even known it in the first place.

"He was bitten, but the turning ritual wasn't completed," Dean bit out, voice low and threatening, the words grating like gravel on his throat. "The vampire's blood didn't actually enter Sam's bloodstream. He's not going to fucking turn."

"And I suppose I'm just going to have to take your word for it?" O'Boyle sneered, not sounding the least bit convinced.

Dean barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Go ahead. Check him for fangs, then!"

"You think I'm stupid? There won't be any damn fangs until he's fully turned! It might be hours until then," the guy reasoned, casting a nervous look back down at Sam's unconscious form.

Dean followed his gaze and swallowed at the clamminess Sam's skin had taken on- a fine sheen of cool sweat covering the kid's forehead and arms. Sam was shivering against the cot, his lax fingers wracked by small tremors in Dean's gentle hold.

He was fading and he was fading fast.

And Dean was NOT going to lose his brother because that stubborn dumbass of a doctor was afraid to risk his own skin.

"Look," Dean took a step forward, lifting his arms even higher when O'Boyle's eyes went wide with panic. "You can test him with silver if you want… I've got deadman's blood in the trunk of my car. For all I fucking care you can try both on him, just get a damn move on before it's too late, alright?"

O'Boyle looked skeptical for another minute or too, but the words seemed to take some of the wind out of his sails and when he hesitantly lowered his gun again, Dean allowed himself to take a measured breath in relief.

He squeezed Sam's fingers, just for the heck of it, trying to lend reassurance.

"You try anything funny and your brother's officially past the fucking point of saving in my book, you got that, boy?"

"Crystal," Dean forced out from behind clenched teeth because what else was there to say?

"Good," O'Boyle praised quietly before turning around to rummage around in one of his drawers for what looked like an engraved Babylonian silver knife. It was old and valuable… the kind of thing they'd found in the man of letters bunker.

Sam would doubtlessly gush about the craftsmanship- the delicate manufacturing- the historical value or some other nerdy crap if he was awake right now, but he wasn't and instead of Sam's enthusiastic chatter the only thing that filled the air between O'Boyle and Dean was tension.

The old man pulled the knife from its sheath and Dean straightened, every fiber of his being screaming in protest at what was about to come.

Sam was already hurt, goddamnit.

Forcing him to watch his little brother get hurt any further- even if it was for something as minor as a small cut to the finger, was almost unbearable to Dean.

O'Boyle took Sam's hand- the one that wasn't entwined with Dean's fingers and pressed the tip of the knife against his palm.

With a swift flick of his wrist, the veteran cut Sam's skin open, causing the younger man to let out a soft sound of protest, even in his deep state of unconsciousness. O'Boyle's eyes were wide as he dug the blade in deeper, even as Sam's blood welled and trickled along the silver surface of the knife.

"Alright, that's enough," Dean sharply bit out, protectiveness taking hold.

He reached over to grab the older man's wrist and forcefully yank it back from his brother, causing his injured hand to lifelessly fall back to the cot.

Dean pulled a bandana from his jeans pocket and rushed to tie it around the bleeding cut in Sam's hand- one more scar added to the list of failures in Dean's head- one more thing he was forced to stand by and let happen- one more goddamn thing to hate himself or.

_I'm sorry Sammy._

"What the hell is wrong with you? A small cut would have done the damn job!" Dean growled out in a sharp tone as he watched the folded fabric get saturated with Sam's blood.

"Better safe than sorry," O'Boyle responded and spat a glob of saliva to the ground, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Wow. Just wow…

Dean was starting to seriously regret his decision to come here instead of taking Sam to a goddamn hospital. This guy was totally off his fucking rocker and now Sam's life was essentially in the hands of a PTSD-crazed nutjob.

"Seriously?" Dean narrowed his eyes at the guy in disapproval. "You always treat your patients with that level of trust and hygiene or is it just because we're old friends?"

O'Boyle snorted and dropped the bloody blade into the nearby sink.

"Don't get cute with me, boy. You've always had a big mouth on ye'."

"Just… can we get on with the damn program now?" Dean urged, washing a tired hand over the worry lines in his forehead. He felt drained- utterly exhausted after everything that had happened in the past 24 hours- and he just wanted for Sam to get better.

To be safe and whole and talking.

He wanted Sam healthy and strong and eating. Regaining his strength.

He wanted for them to talk things out and make things right between them.

To erase the terrible look of hurt and longing from Sam's eyes and make him understand that they were still brothers- that Dean had never meant to make him feel like the fact that Sam was the most important part of Dean's life was no longer true.

"You guys the same blood type?"

Dean nodded eagerly. "Yeah, we are. Take as much as you need."

He rolled up his sleeve, eager to finally get a chance to help and O'Boyle patted the seat of an uncomfortable-looking metal chair next to his work counter. "Sit down."

Dean's fingers were shaking so badly- the adrenaline coupled with the shock and his own injuries- finally getting the drop on him.

He tried not to let it show, but when his fingers kept getting tangled up in the fabric of his flannel, O'Boyle swatted at his hands with a grumbled curse and roughly yanked Dean's shirt off of his uncooperative limbs. "Damn' Winchesters and their goddamn layered clothing. You'd think an experienced hunter like yourself would dress appropriately on the goddamn job."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the guy's words.

Were they seriously going to discuss his fashion choices?

"Alright, listen, pal, I'm not in the mood to—"

"Shut up and lean back," O'Boyle shoved Dean back into the seat with a firm palm planted against the younger man's chest, before returning back to the counter.

He gathered a rubber tube, a needle, and a few cotton swabs from a cabinet without another word before searching over Dean's arm for a good vein to use.

They were both quiet for a while, O'Boyle deeply lost in thought as he prepped an IV and the necessary medical equipment for the transfusion.

Dean's eyes were transfixed on Sam the entire time, half-afraid his brother was going to stop breathing in the meanwhile. The movement of Sam's chest was shallow enough to be reason for concern. His skin was clammy, lips a pale shade of violet and the quivers that had so forcefully shaken his frame earlier were now barely detectable.

Damnit.

"There any chance we can speed this whole thing up?" Dean growled out, his patience snapping like a rubber band that had been stretched too far. That old bastard was taking his sweet time searching Dean's arm for a vein when he should be freaking out instead. "My brother's dying, in case you haven't noticed."

O'Boyle's only reaction to the hunter's words was a cold glower.

Then he returned back to his task at hand, carefully checking Dean's pulse and doubtlessly finding it a bit too weak. Placing the palm of his meaty hand on Dean's chest, he timed the younger man's respirations- which were also a little too shallow for the doctor's liking.

"You think it's smart to give your brother blood with a nasty concussion?"

"I'm all ears if you have a better suggestion," Dean gave back because it wasn't exactly like the guy had any banked blood in his shady clinic.

O'Boyle shrugged. "It's your body."

Dean couldn't help narrowing his eye at the cold indifference in the other man's gaze, like O'Boyle had been alone for so long- traumatized from whatever crap he'd been forced through during his time in 'Nam—that he couldn't even relate to a love as essential as the one of a brother for his younger sibling.

"Just do what you have to do, alright?"

With a snort, O'Boyle tied the rubber tube around Dean's arm just above the dip of his elbow, forcing a vein to appear beneath the pale skin. He swabbed the area above the vein with disinfectant and shoved the needle in with more force than necessary.

Dean winced and looked away as his blood started flowing through the thin plastic tube attached to his arm. He pumped his hand a few times, to speed the whole process up, thankful that there was finally something- no matter how insignificant- that he could do to help his brother.

"About time," Dean complained and shot a dark glower in O'Boyle's direction.

O'Boyle ignored the comment and adjusted the drip to flow at a rate of one unit per 20 minutes.

"I don't know why you even bother," the older man shot a derogatory glance in Sam's direction and the words, coupled with the look of pure contempt in the guy's face, caused Dean's hackles to rise in instant protectiveness and anger.

"The hell are you talking about?" he demanded sharply, eyes narrowed in distrust.

"That boy's as good as dead… even if I give him your blood, his body's going to fight the intrusion, sucking up his last energy reserves in the process. My best guess is that he won't make it through the night—"

Dean was up from his seat so fast, it sent his concussion-wrecked brain spinning. His hand darted out to grab the next best thing from the nearby counter and yanked O'Boyle close, left hand shooting up to press the sharp blade of a rusty pair of scissors against his exposed throat.

"I've been listening to your shit for the past twenty minutes without saying a goddamn word, but so help me god, O'Boyle, your only fucking concern right now should be saving my brother's life," Dean hissed in the other man's face, their noses mere inches apart and eyes blown in the flickering neon light of the room.

"Dean," Cas said in a warning tone, resting a palm against the enraged hunter's shoulder.

Dean's breathing was hard, nostrils flaring with each intake of air that whooshed through his lungs. He forced himself to calm down, taking a step back as he slowly released the doctor's coat.

"Mark my words," Dean jabbed his index finger forcefully into the older man's chest. "If I notice you're not doing everything in your goddamn power to save him, Sam won't be the only one losing his life tonight. Do you understand? Do I make myself clear?"

"Dean, that's enough!" Cas tried to intervene, trying to pull Dean's hand away from O'Boyle's throat. After a second or two of intense glaring, Dean finally relented, lowering the scissors he'd used as a make-shift weapon.

"You're just as much of a fucking lunatic as your father, boy," the older man growled out low under his breath, rubbing his throat, where the metal had so harshly bit into his skin just a moment ago.

He yanked the scissors from Dean's grasp and tossed it into the blood-specked sink, safely out of Dean's reach without a much as a second glance. Dean had to give it to him, for someone who had just been attacked; he put on a pretty calm veneer of indifference.

Maybe Dean shouldn't have threatened him with his life. It really didn't seem like O'Boyle cared much about living to see another day.

"Look what you've done," the doctor sneered, readjusting the needle from where it had slipped from its cannula. "You keep sabotaging my handiwork like that and no threats in the world are going to keep that kid from dying. Now get back in that damn seat before I strap you down to it."

Dean shot O'Boyle one last, lingering glower, before he reluctantly sank back into his chair, yanking his shoulder out of Cas' grasp.

He watched as O'Boyle repeated the whole procedure with the rubber tube, this time trying to detect a vein on his brother's unresponsive limbs.

Rolling up one of Sam' torn and bloodied sleeves, the veteran inserted the needle in his arm and hung a saline solution on a metal stand and Dean tensed, remembering the vicious treatment he'd been subject to earlier.

"Be careful with him," Dean admonished, even though Sam showed no signs of distress to the outside world, his face still utterly blank and void of emotion as he lay unconscious on the cot.

"You always this protective of him?" O'Boyle rolled his eyes at Dean's motherhenning.

"Yes, Dean has a very nurturing and protective side when it comes to his brother."

O'Boyle shot Cas a sideways look that managed to be shocked and weirded out at the same time.

Whatever he was thinking about Dean's companion, it probably wasn't anything good.

Shaking his head a little to himself, O'Boyle reverted his attention back to Dean.

"You know he's a grown-ass man in his what- late twenties?"

Dean snorted.

Yeah, Sam had never quite looked his age.

There was just something about the way his shaggy, brown hair fell into his eyes and about the dimples carved into his cheeks that made him look much younger than his actual years. And secretly, Dean had always suspected it was Sammy's patience and willingness to help everyone around him without expecting anything in return, that made him seem younger in a way.

"He's my little brother," Dean shrugged like he shouldn't have to explain this to the guy. "Doesn't matter how old he is. That's one thing he's never going to outgrow."

"What's his name?" O'Boyle asked while working Sam's hoodie off his chest with a bit of effort, leaving him a shivering, pallid mess against the table.

"Sammy— Sam," Dean corrected himself quickly because no way was he going to let that ice-cold bastard going to use Sammy's nickname when Sam was too out-of-it to give him hell for it.

"Dean reserves the sole rights to that nickname," Cas unhelpfully supplied from the side and Dean started thinking maybe he shouldn't have brought his dorky friend along.

"That so?" O'Boyle asked and if Dean didn't know it any better who would have said there was a hidden smile in the older man's gruff voice. "I remember when you were about 4 or 5 years old- your brother here was merely a baby… your dad once came here for supplies. You gave me a death glare when I picked your brother up. That fire in your eyes… you never lost it, huh?"

Dean couldn't remember that.

He'd spent years trying to bury the memories of his mom's death and the years that followed from his mind.

But the story rang true to his ears- sometimes when their dad had drunk a bit too much, he'd taken a stroll down memory lane with them- revisited some embarrassing stories dating back to their childhood years. And one thing that never failed to amuse them all had been the fierce protective streak Dean always had when it came to his little brother.

"You really love that kid, huh?"

Dean's eyes widened a little as he looked over to meet O'Boyle's gaze.

It wasn't something they ever said out loud between the two of them.

And yet it didn't make the words any less true.

"What part of _'he's my brother'_ did you not understand?" Dean's eyes were filled with a wayward glint of affection that broke through O'Boyle's carefully crafted steel façade.

"Huh," the older man said with a bit of wonder in his tone, which pissed Dean off because had he seriously expected any other answer to his fucked up question?

Family was family. A bond forged in blood and genes and shared history. It trumped _everything_.

What was not to understand about that?

O'Boyle dragged a wooden stool closer to the cot and sat down before he started systematically patting down Sam's body, lifting one limb after the other and testing its flexibility, then searching it for any wounds he might have missed.

Dean watched with more than a little unease as the veteran began to check Sam's reflexes by landing a soft blow to the hollow of his elbows. Sam flinched and wrinkled his nose, head lolling from one side to the other, but his arm barely twitched in response.

O'Boyle frowned and repeated the procedure, this time with more force and the soft noise of protest his brother let out was enough to propel Dean forward.

"Hey, enough of that. He's responsive, alright?"

O'Boyle ignored Dean's protest and shot Cas a look over the table top.

"Is there an off button to this guy?"

"I don't understand," Cas looked flabbergasted at the question and this time, it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "The human body does not accommodate buttons."

"Your friend is weird," O'Boyle stated as he shone a light pen in Sam's eyes to gauge the reaction and sensitivity of his pupils to various degrees of light.

Weird didn't even cut it.

But Dean wouldn't be caught dead talking shit about one of their closest friends with an asshole like O'Boyle. Especially not, after Cas had saved their bacon back at the barn. Without Cas' help, Sam would already be dead by now and Dean was forever going to be grateful for that.

"So what happened?" O'Boyle turned Sam's head to the side so that the younger man's face was angled to face his older brother and started to prod at the bite wound on Sam's neck.

"Vamp gone haywire?"

Dean thought back to the way Benny had looked all hyped up on demon juice, his fangs extended, pupils blown and eyes thickly veined and demonic as could be.

He thought back to the way Benny had beaten Sam- tortured him- in front of Dean's eyes and to the terrible things he had said- things that would give Crowley or Meg a run for their money.

About using Sam as a drug dispenser- keeping him locked up and hidden away for his own perverted drug addiction- his own thirst for blood.

Sam- Sammy… who never wished bad things upon anyone.

Sam who was the most selfless, heroic person Dean had ever known.

Sam who would give his own life in a second in exchange for somebody else's safety.

Sammy, who used to look at Dean like he'd hung the moon and stars- like he had a solution to every problem- like there was nothing bad or embarrassing enough that Sam couldn't tell his big brother about it- that Sammy, who had yearned so much for his brother's love- his brother's affection that he was willing to sign his own life over to an abomination- a heartless and cruel monster.

"Yeah," Dean croaked out weakly, shame-filled gaze dropped down to his hands- his own fingers still coated in dried flakes of his brother's blood. "Yeah… I guess you could call it that."

"How much blood did he take?"

Dean shook his head, the shameful admission weighing heavy on his heart. "I don't know."

Because apparently, it had been going on for days, weeks even, while Dean had been completely oblivious to the deal Sam had struck with Benny.

O'Boyle let out a slow breath and let his intense gaze linger on Dean for another moment.

"What kind of stuff's the kid taking?"

"Stuff?" Dean frowned, genuinely confused.

"I believe he refers to Sam's abuse of illegal substances," Cas intervened from the side, much to Dean's annoyance. "You remember how you asked me to check him for—"

"I remember," Dean harshly cut the angel off, adding a warning glower to his sharpened tone for good measure and hoping that Cas got the message to 'shut the hell up'.

"What's he on?" O'Boyle asked with a hardened look in his eyes.

"He's not on anything," Dean bit out through clenched teeth.

He thought back to the way Sam had desperately clung to the fabric of Dean's flannel shirt- begging his big brother not to turn his back on him during their fight in the car after Dean had found the puncture wounds beneath his elbow.

He remembered the tears in his little brother's voice and the desperation in his eyes as Sam all but begged him to believe that he wasn't using, that he hadn't gotten addicted to everything they've lived through together the first time during Sam's detox from the demon blood.

And there hadn't been a trace of guilt or self-hatred in Sam's eyes.

Dean had seen nothing but raw honesty his brother's eyes when he swore that he hadn't been using. Sam had sworn on Dean's life, for god's sake. And they both knew how valuable- how serious- a promise was when it came at these stakes.

So yeah, maybe in the heat of the moment, Dean had asked for Cas to check Sam over for drugs- but it had been more out of spite than everything else. In that moment with Sam being all jealous and bitchy about Dean's friendship with Benny, Dean hadn't been thinking clearly.

He had been hurting and he had wanted to hurt Sam back- hitting the younger man where it would doubtlessly cause the most damage: the endless question of trust between them.

By asking Cas to check Sam for drugs in his bloodstream, Dean had essentially proclaimed Sam's earlier promise that he was clean, invalid- had made his younger brother feel like he couldn't fully trust his word. Like that basic, essential bond between them- the one that had been built and strengthened over years of brotherhood and friendship- was finally broken, crumbled like a house of cards.

And Sam had still come after Dean, despite everything.

He had still somehow managed to save Dean's ass- to sacrifice himself for his older brother, despite his own poor state AND the fact that Dean had said these terrible things to him.

The vampire who saved me- who was there for me when you weren't? The vampire who's my friend and who needs me- is that the one you're talking about?

Benny might be a vampire, but at least he's been there for me when I needed him the most. He was there for me when you were away- getting your happily-ever-after and he saved my ass when you couldn't be bothered to care I was gone.

Are you really so selfish that you can't bear the thought of me caring about somebody other than you?

Benny's family, Sam. He's my brother.

God… Dean couldn't believe he'd said that shit to Sam's face and left him at the bunker, weak and miserable and hurting so badly that he had practically pleaded for Dean not to leave his side.

"I'm not fucking stupid, kid," O'Boyle rasped and harshly yanked Sam's left arm up to point at the bruises surrounding the line of needle marks on his brother's pale skin. "It's been a while since Woodstock but I know a fucking junkie when I see one."

Dean's vision turned red as a surge of unexpected fury rushed through him.

He had never taken lightly to people talking shit about his family, but calling Sam a junkie- when the kid was at such a breaking point already- having been used and misused in the worst ways possible- was taking things a step too far.

Yanking the injection tube from his arm, Dean got up from his chair, a murderous expression on his face as he took a threatening step forward. "Watch your goddamn mouth when you talk about him."

"You gonna threaten me again, boy? What are you gonna use this time? A pair of tweezers? Some cotton balls?" O'Boyle snorted. "How about you save us all the dramatic caveman-act and tell me what kind of drugs he's tripping on, or I won't be able to give him antibiotics- which would be signing his death warrant."

"He's not tripping on anything," Dean growled, saying the words slower, this time, pronouncing them all separately as if that would make them easier to understand.

O'Boyle gave him the look- the one that universally said the same thing: I'm not buying your shit.

"Listen up, Winchester, I might not have been out there on the field in a while- a little hard when your bum leg is about as useful as a fucking brick attached to your body, but I have heard stories about the two of you… none of them particularly positive."

"You don't say," Dean locked his jaw, bracing himself for the ex-hunter's next words. Of course, that fucking bastard would have heard about them. It wasn't exactly like their name was unknown amongst the hunter community.

These days it seemed like their own kind was just one more thing to add to the endless list of enemies they had- like all hunters, save for a view exceptions, were gossiping behind their backs somehow, exchanging stories about how these damn Winchester boys managed to screw the whole world over again.

"I heard that it wouldn't be the first time your brother here, messed with stuff he wasn't supposed to mess with," O'Boyle continued cryptically and Dean had a hard time suppressing the urge to smack the older man right in the fucking face. He knew what came next and he wasn't sure he could bear to hear it without losing his temper.

"Oh yeah? What kind of 'stuff' was he supposedly messing with?" Dean squared his shoulders, rolled his neck a little, ignoring the way his vision swam in and out of focus, lightnings of pain shooting through his concussion-riddled scull.

He had just single-handedly killed the fucking bloodsucker that had been hyped up on demon blood and hulking out. What was one more fucker to add to the list?

"You know," O'Boyle pursed his lips and shrugged. "Demons, demon blood, Lucifer… the apocalypse. I'm guessing you know all about that, given how close you two are."

Dean took a shuddering breath, fingers clenching into fists by his side. A steady stream of warm blood was trickling from the small puncture wound in his arm, slicking his palm and fingers where they clenched tightly.

Yeah, he knew all about it.

He'd been there to witness it all.

Enough so, to know, that absolutely none of it had been his brother's fault.

"Listen up, I'm not sure what you think you know about us and quite frankly, I don't give a shit. But my brother is not a junkie. And if you ever accuse him of that again once he's awake, he'll be the least of your fucking problems, you got me? I swear to god, you so much as mention any of the shit you've just said to me to Sam and I'm going to end you."

Because Sam didn't need another asshole to add to the shitload of guilt that was already weighing his heart down.

Dean had already added plenty to Sam's self-worth and trust issues in the last couple of weeks, by choosing Benny over his own flesh-and-blood brother- by disregarding Sam's promises and blatantly ignoring the fact that his little brother was getting tortured by his so-called companion.

No, when Sam was going to wake up, they would need to talk about a lot of stuff, but O'Boyle's mindless accusation sure as hell wasn't going to be one of them.

"Then where do these come from?" O'Boyle pointed at the puncture wounds in Sam's arms and dug his fingers into one of the blossoming bruises right below the young man's elbow.

Sam's expression shifted from peaceful oblivion to deep discomfort and when O'Boyle's finger grazed a particularly angry bruise on his arm, the younger man let out a barely-audible sound of distress, even in his deep state of unconsciousness.

"Alright, stop it," Dean's arm shot out to grasp the veteran's wrist and pull it back from his brother. "Can't you see that you're hurting him? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What is he taking?" O'Boyle hissed, getting right up in Dean's face.

_Wow, no wonder Dad flipped his shit on the guy's ass._

"_Nothing_," Dean returned in a sharp tone.

God, they were wasting way too much time.

Dean should have just taken Sam and bailed it to the next hospital, insurance or not.

"The vampire was a messed up piece of shit, alright? He- he toyed with my brother… tortured him," Dean had trouble voicing the words, mainly because they were true. "He took his blood in more ways than one, okay?"

Dean could see the exact moment when the words sank in.

O'Boyle looked back down at the puncture wounds in Sam's arm and then carefully settled them back on the metal cot.

"If you lie to me about this," he said with an intensity that gripped Dean tight. "I can't guarantee anything. Drugs don't mix well with more drugs and your brother's going to need some heavy pills to make it, you got me?"

"Yeah, yeah I got you. Now can we please get this done with?"

"You're not going to like what's next," O'Boyle warned with a small grin, almost like he was enjoying this- like he had some kind of sadistic streak deep down inside that made him act like all of this was funny.

Like Sam wasn't fucking suffering while they were threatening each other and tossing out accusations.

Dean's whole expression hardened. "I'm going to tell you exactly what's next. What's next is that you're going to fix my little brother. Any other suggestion coming to you and you're going to do all of that at gunpoint, capiche?"

O'Boyle's smile slowly vanished from his lips.

There was a short moment, filled with electrifying tension.

Eventually, the words seemed to have flicked some kind of invisible switch in the older man's head, kick-starting him into action.

"I don't need a brat like you threatening me every five minutes," he grumbled, before hooking Sam up with the bag of blood Dean had filled earlier. Once more, the doctor pushed the needle in deeper than necessary, fixating the thin tube with little care or regard to Sam's discomfort.

"Help me get him out of this," O'Boyle gave a sharp tug to the remnants of Sam's shirt- the one he'd been wearing beneath the hoodie.

Dean looked at it and inwardly sighed, knowing it was one of Sam's favorites.

He reached out to brush some of the unruly strands from his brother's eyes and bit his lip.

"We're gonna get you a new one," he whispered, before giving O'Boyle a tight nod.

They worked together, Cas helping Dean to guide Sam's unresponsive body into a sitting position, while O'Boyle ripped Sam's shirt in half with one swift jerk.

The sound of the ripping fabric, coupled with the sensation of too many hands on him, had Sam jerk weakly in their grasp, head flopping back against Dean's shoulder as a raw sound tumbled past his shaking lips.

"Hey, shhh… it's alright," Dean instantly shushed his brother, feeling his throat close up on him at the way Sam buried his nose against the dip of his collarbone. It was endearing to see that even half-out-of-it and vulnerable, Sam sought out Dean's comfort- turned to his big brother in search of comfort and reassurance and protection.

"Put him back down," O'Boyle instructed, eyeing them warily and Dean somewhat reluctantly maneuvered his brother around to lie back down on his back, now fully exposed to the watchful eye of the old veteran.

Dean's whole body tensed and he swallowed when he looked down at his brother's bare abdomen- at the signs of abuse marking his brother's entire body.

The signs of abuse he'd ignored.

Sam's ribs stuck out of his chest in a pronounced way- barely covered by a thin layer of flesh that stretched tightly over the bones.

Jesus, Dean had noticed that Sam had lost weight, but he had no clue how much of his muscle mass Sam had actually lost in the past couple of weeks and months… If he had known, he'd have force-fed the kid a long time ago, shoving spoonfuls of their dad's famous kitchen sink stew down his throat.

And as if the weight loss wasn't horrible enough, Sam's ribcage seemed strangely deformed- some of the ribs visible cracked or fractured beneath the colorful bruising that decorated his skin.

Sam looked distorted and _wrong_.

Vulnerable.

Abused.

"You're trying to tell me a vamp did all this?" O'Boyle asked skeptically, all the while running callous fingers testily over the younger man's middle, persistently pressing his flat hands against the affected area to search for a cartilage one the ribs.

There was an odd popping noise like a shoulder popping back into space and Sam gasped, eyes ripped wide open and glazed over with pain. "N-nuh—stop—stuuhp—"

Dean was by his brother's side before he made the conscious decision to move, instantly holding onto Sam's shoulder, trying to gently- but firmly- press him back down against the cot.

"NO!" Sam cried out, voice hoarse and raspy with pain and panic as he struggled in his brother's hold, trying desperately to break free from the hands holding him down, even when his limbs were about as useful as Silly Putty. "Get off! Get OFF! Deaaan—"

"Hey, hey… you listen to me, I'm right here, brother. Right here, alright? Nobody's trying to hurt you, Sammy."

"He doesn't understand a goddamn word you're saying," O'Boyle cursed low under his breath, struggling to force Sam's kicking legs back down to the cot. "It's the fever."

Dean ignored the older man, both arms still tightly wrapped around his brother's torso, even when Sam's leaden hands came up to fight him. Under different circumstances, Dean would have laughed at his brother's kittenish attempts to defend himself, but not when he wasn't even awake enough to give Dean one of his patented bitchfaces in retaliation.

Not when Sam was in pain and feverish and when his hazel eyes were filled with tears of confused panic and excruciating pain.

"Ben-ny—" Sam's voice broke as he shook his head from side to side, sweaty bangs falling lifelessly into his forehead. His chest was heaving, trying to suck in air through his burning lungs and leaving him gasping like a stranded fish on the shore.

The unnatural movement sent a sharp pain through his right chest and Sam's expression was taken over by raw agony as he let out a startled yelp.

"Cas, help me hold him down!"

"Please—stop, pleassee—" Sam gasped out voicelessly, a few tears of confusion running down his pallid cheeks. He was obviously lost in memory, reliving whatever horrors Benny had put him through in the last couple of weeks- O'Boyle's insensitive treatment, coupled with his feverish state having led to what appeared to be some kind of panic attack.

"'m nnot—m'not evil—" Sam sputtered, bony fingers painfully digging into Dean's shirt, grasping as much of the dirty fabric as he could reach with his hands and fisting it, pulling Dean down in a frantic attempt to get him closer.

"I know," Dean's voice trembled as he placed his palm against the side of Sam's clammy face, thumb light tracing the tear-covered skin right below his eye. "I know that, okay?"

"'m not a demon."

God, the words hurt.

Dean would have given his own life in a heartbeat if only these thoughts- this blame could be eradicated from Sam's brain- from his soul. If his little brother could finally leave his past mistakes in the rearview mirror and redeem himself of the sins he had been corrupted into committing. He would have given anything, to make Sam see- even if it was just for a moment, how much pure and innocent and GOOD Dean saw whenever he looked at his little brother.

"Hey, listen to me. I know you're not, alright? I know that," Dean's eyes were wet with unshed tears as he brushed his hand through Sam's tousled bangs, uselessly trying to comb the unruly mane back.

"D'nn…" Sam blinked, more tears breaking free and then there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes- almost like he could see through the fever haze and look right at his brother.

"'m sorry… not good 'nough…" Sam let out a wheezing cough, followed by a sharp keening noise as he squeezed his eyes shut against yet another wave of pain.

Dean thought he'd been broken-hearted before. He really did.

But nothing could ever compare to the emotional blow Sam's next words packed.

"S-such a let-down..."

"Sammy," Dean breathed out brokenly.

Dean had never- not even after that hotel room, when Sam had left him broken and bleeding on the floor to go after Lillith- regretted their brotherhood. He had never thought of Sam as a burden or a disappointment. Not back during their childhood years, when Sam had been little and needed constant care-taking and supervision. Not now, when they needed to have one another's back during the job. Not even when they were fighting each other tooth or nails.

"Sam—"

"You two are breaking my goddamn heart," O'Boyle growled out from the side, still struggling with the task of restraining Sam's massive limbs to keep him from hurting himself any further. "Can we save the drama for when I'm done with him?"

Dean shot him a glower for having dared to interrupt their much-needed moment.

But he could see the guy's point.

Sam wasn't even fully aware of his surroundings.

He was in some kind of fevered haze, thinking he was back with Benny- asking- pleading- for Benny to stop hurting him.

Yeah, those weren't exactly the perfect premises to make a declaration of love.

"Hey," Dean lowered his voice, gently carding his fingers into Sam's sweaty curls and looking down into his blurry gaze. "You're just a bit confused, alright, buddy? Benny messed with that ginormous brain of yours…"

"B'nny?" Sam's face scrunched up like the name alone was enough to cause him pain and Dean's protective streak flared at the realization of how affected his little brother had been by the vampire's torture- how much the horror of what he lived through still bothered him.

He stepped up to the metal cot, putting a comforting hand against his brother's forehead.

"He's dead, Sammy. That bastard's never gonna touch you again."

With a last shudder- almost as if reassured by Dean's broken words of comfort, Sam went lax again, every last bit of energy- of adrenaline finally drained from his bruised and battered body.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Dean muttered quietly, catching his brother's weight as his body slumped to the side, just in time to keep him from falling off the cot. "Sammy? Sam?"

"I think he lost consciousness," Cas supplied unhelpfully from the side.

"About damn' time," O'Boyle snorted and guided Sam's lax body back down in a way that granted him access to the young man's battered chest and abdomen. "You don't want him awake for what's next."

"And what would that be?" Dean growled out and took a bold step towards the older man, eyes promising unimaginable pain and slow death if the guy dared to say the wrong thing.

"Cool it, Papa Bear. Anybody ever tell you that you're worse than your old man?"

"You're not going to fucking hurt him," Dean pointed a threatening finger at the older man, voice coming out rougher than he'd first intended.

"I'm going to clean the wound on his neck, give him a muscle relaxant and wrap those damn ribs. You happy? Now get off my ass. I've had about enough of your damn threats. You and I both know you're not going to kill me."

"Yeah, I wouldn't be so damn sure about that," Dean grumbled unhappily, rolling his neck.

The headache pounding through his skull was about as subtle as a fucking sledgehammer and his vision was still impaired- Sam's clammy face swimming in and out of focus as a consequence of his concussion.

"I'll stitch that laceration on your head right after his," O'Boyle gave Dean an assertive sideways glance as if having read Dean's thoughts.

Dean grimaced. "I'm fine. Just take care of Sam, alright?"

"He's not the only one hurt," O'Boyle reasoned and then his expression softened a bit, almost as if he could see right through Dean's unwillingness to take care of himself before Sam was better.

"I bet you a fifty your brother Sam, here, is going to kick my ass if he wakes up to find you passed out on the floor with an aneurysm."

"I can confirm that," Cas asserted quietly, earning himself an exasperated eye roll from Dean. "Sam is quite protective of his brother, himself. They have an extraneous history of sacrifice and—"

"This isn't the time, Cas," Dean shot the angel a look, not needing a reminder of all the times one of them had sacrificed their lives or souls for the other. "No need to relive some of our greatest hits."

Dean was still haunted by the nightmares of Azazel, Alistair and Lucifer every other night, tasting hellfire on his tongue, feeling the agonizing ripple of pain of hellhounds tearing his body to shreds- and reliving Sam's death- over and over and over again in his mind- the way his back arched- expression torn into a pained grimace- the way his head fell lifelessly to the side, eyes closed.

Sam's original death- the one at Cold Oak- undoubtedly ranked among the worst of Dean's memories, maybe because his devastation, his grief had been so absolute- so incomparable at the time.

Similar to an old wound that had scabbed over but never fully healed, Dean was sure that he would never ever be able to forget the way Sam's pulse had faded against his fingers… the way his gaze had slid to the side, lids falling closed in eternal slumber.

"He's right, Dean," Cas quietly insisted. "You need to rest."

"I'll rest when Sam's better."

"Yeah, I don't mean to rain on your parade there, Winchester, but the kid?" O'Boyle prepared the syringe with what Dean assumed were the muscle relaxants for Sammy. "It's gonna take some time for him to get vertical."

O'Boyle tapped Sam's skin until a vein appeared and then pressed the needle in, slowly releasing the fluid into his blood stream.

Sam winced in unease and Dean reached down to interlace his fingers with his brother's, lending unspoken reassurance to the unconscious man.

"I don't care. I'm not going to leave my brother alone."

O'Boyle shook his head at so much stubbornness. "Fine, whatever, kid."

He grabbed a small bucket and filled it with water from the sink, dropping a washcloth inside it.

"Here," he handed Dean the basin with lukewarm water along with some hand disinfectant. "If you're not going to get catch any sleep, go make yourself useful and clean your brother up. I'm guessing he'd rather have your hands all over his body than mine."

Dean took the bucket with a curt little nod and let out a sigh. "You're going to stitch him up?"

"Yeah," O'Boyle assured with a heavy sigh and sat back down in his metal chair. "This might take a while."

Dean looked down at Sam's gaunt face and squeezed his brother's fingers. "I've got time."

* * *

"Thank you," Dean said in a hoarse voice that was barely audible.

He heard the soft clink of a glass being put down on the table next to him and felt a soft- almost tentative- pat on his shoulder.

"You need to stay hydrated."

Dean remained slumped in the chair next to the cot Sam was resting on, looking scarily pale against the pristine white of the sheets that covered him.

Cas dropped a set of fresh clothes on the edge of Sam's mattress.

"I was told to give you these," Cas cleared his throat and awkwardly gestured towards the metal door at the end of the hallway. "There is a shower at your disposal if you need it."

"What your overly awkward friend means, is that you should go and get washed up," O'Boyle walked into the room. "Just don't get your stitches wet or I'll kick your ass."

Dean gave Sam a reluctant look, unwilling to leave his brother alone and yet he couldn't deny how tempting it sounded to hop in the shower and wash the grime and dried blood from his tired body.

A look from O'Boyle, however, told Dean that Sam would be watched in his absence. And more than that, the older guy's eyes also told Dean that if he didn't follow their suggestion, O'Boyle would drag him into that shower by the ears, injury or not.

After a long shower and a quick redressing, Dean felt at least physically clean- his conscience still heavy with guilt and tainted with self-hatred as he walked back into O'Boyle's self-proclaimed recovery room and reclaimed his seat by Sam's bedside.

He watched O'Boyle from the corner of his eye with a wariness that was probably misplaced after the older man had spent hours on putting them both back together, but Dean had learned better than to trust fellow hunters with anything but suspiciousness.

When the doctor stepped closer and handed him a couple of pills, Dean just cocked an eyebrow at the man in bafflement. "Take them."

"What are they?"

"Painkillers," he explained and Dean looked down at the round little pills in various colors with dubiousness. He had no reason to believe O'Boyle would want to harm them after everything he'd done for them, but a small part of his brain was still screaming at him in warning.

"Listen," O'Boyle said with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "I've helped you this fucking far, haven't I? What kind of reason could I possibly have to poison you?"

"You've had beef with my dad."

O'Boyle had the audacity to snort with laughter. Come to think of it, Dean was pretty sure it was the first time he saw the guy with a genuine smile on his lips.

"No offense, but your dad had beef with everyone."

Dean huffed out a soft laugh and shook his head.

As much as he loved his father, that was one thing he couldn't really deny about the man.

"Fair enough," Dean held O'Boyle's gaze and swallowed the pills dry.

O'Boyle, seemingly satisfied with the way Dean had finally relented, busied himself regulating the flow rate of Sam's fluids and checked his vitals.

"He's all I have," Dean said after a while when the silence became too much for him to bear.

O'Boyle was putting away his medical equipment, carefully cleaning glass vials, plastic tubes, and needles.

He never turned around to face Dean, but the hunter could still tell that the older man's interest was piqued- that he was listening intently to his every word.

"I couldn't bear it if…" Dean broke himself off, mouth slamming shut as if to keep more words from spilling unbidden from his lips. His eyes were suddenly shiny, throat tight with raw pain.

O'Boyle was silent for the longest of times, continuing to mechanically clean the room.

Before long, Dean found himself slumping sideways in his chair, eyes falling closed, no matter how hard he tried to keep them open and trained on his little brother's sleeping face.

"C'mon, boy," a gruff voice eventually said and Dean frowned when brawny arms slipped around his waist, lifting him up from the seat and heavily supporting his weight when he swayed on his feet. "Time to get some rest… I'm gonna wake you in three and you can thank your lovely concussion for that."

"S'mmy…"

"Your brother's alright, you stubborn bastard. Now get your heavy ass in bed. C'mon."

"Samm—" Dean's feet dragged on the floor and he nearly stumbled over the edge of the carpet, toppling onto the mattress of the cot O'Boyle had prepared for him and sending himself face-first into the pillows.

The last thing he was vaguely aware of was a grumbled "How the hell did John deal with you on a regular basis?"

* * *

Dark light was filtering into the room from outside when Dean stirred.

He squinted into the darkness, took in the faint smell of antiseptics and groaned when the events of the past couple of days hit him again; Sam's disappearances, their fighting, Benny's betrayal, the captivity, Sam nearly dying, being helped by O'Boyle.

He lay flat on his stomach for another second, blinking his heavy eyelids open and then shifted his head around just enough to find Sam in the bed opposite to him, in the exact same position he'd been in hours ago.

Dean's heart sank.

"I was just about to wake you up," Cas' voice caused Dean to whirl around, finding Cas hovering mere inches over him.

Rubbing a tired hand over his features, Dean scowled up at the angel. "Dude. Personal space? I thought we've been through this…"

"Sorry," Cas blinked, taking a somewhat bashful step back.

"How's Sam? He wake up while I was out?"

"No," Cas sounded apologetic, his eyes cast down as if he was to blame for the fact that Sam was still out like a light. "We've been monitoring him, though, and it seems like his heart rate and body temperature are stabilizing."

Dean tried to lift himself up and found it difficult, his limbs not really cooperating.

"Do you need me to—"

"Get out of my ass, damn it!" Dean hissed, patience snapping as he shot the angel a dark scowl.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas looked honestly taken aback by Dean's reaction- almost hurt- and Dean felt about two inches tall, realizing begrudgingly that he had hurt the angel's feelings.

"You're not feeling well. I should leave you and Sam alone—"

"No, Cas, wait a minute," Dean stopped the angel in his tracks. "That was uncalled for. I didn't mean to yell at you… it's just—"

"I understand," Cas appeased him with a soft look. "You're worried about Sam's recovery. Maybe you should go and lie back some more… the doctor said I could let you go back to sleep if you seem coherent and responsive."

"No, I'm good," Dean protested and swung his legs over the mattresses edge, wincing when his new stitches pulled a little at the movement. "How long was I asleep for?"

"Nearly six hours with the one break where the doctor asked you trivia questions."

Dean couldn't help but smile at that, remembering when O'Boyle had woken him in the midst of his pain-killer-induced haze and asked him how many fingers he was holding up and what year they lived in.

He had barely been with it back then, mumbling out slurred answers in an attempt to quickly go back to sleep.

"Do you need anything?" Cas asked, obviously taking his task of playing nurse seriously.

"I'm good, thanks," Dean said in a raspy voice and dragged himself up on unsteady legs. Now that the adrenaline and the shock had finally worn off, his entire body was riddled with pain, feeling like it had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler at top-speed.

He hadn't eaten a proper meal in days and his mouth felt as dry as if somebody had shoveled sand into it.

But what he needed more than food or water or the air to fucking breathe- was for Sam to open his eyes and look at him with his shiny peepers. To look up at Dean and say his name and for them to talk about everything that had happened.

He needed for his brother to get better.

And unless Cas found a magical way to reclaim his angel juice and fix Sammy with a swipe of his fingers, there wasn't a single goddamn thing in the world that would make Dean feel better.

Dragging himself over to the side of Sam's cot, Dean gently cupped the side of Sam's face and to his pleasant surprise found his brother's cheeks warmer to the touch than they used to be- a soft color adding a healthy touch to his slim features.

"God, Sam…"

Now wasn't the time to break down. It really wasn't.

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on?"

How could Sam have thought- even for a goddamn second- that Dean would pick Benny over him? That he would choose a vampire over his own family? His own brother?

"I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you this, but…" Castiel softly started, looking over at Dean with a strange look in his eyes. "Sam asked me something before he banished me from the bunker last night. Before he came to your rescue."

Dean's heart skipped a beat at the words.

He had a feeling he wouldn't like where this was going.

"He asked me whether you'd still give his soul for him if you could change the past. He asked whether I believed that you regret your decision to make a deal for his soul."

Dean felt his heart crack and splinter at the words.

Did Sam seriously have such doubt in their brotherhood that he no longer believed Dean would go to the ends of the world for him?

Did Sam believe Dean would no longer die for him?

"What—" Dean swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that you hold no regrets over having saved him."

Dean released a breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding. "Thanks."

_Thank you for telling him that, when he needed to hear it the most._

"I only told him the truth," Cas gave back easily.

Dean smiled before pulling the angel in for a heartfelt hug.

* * *

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sam blinked, looking about five years old with his hazel eyes wide opened and his cheeks flushed a healthy shade of pink.

He studied the hand O'Boyle was hectically waving around in front of his face and shot Dean a questioning glance over the veteran's shoulder as if to ask his brother what the fuck was going on. "Ah… four?"

"That a question or an answer?"

"Look, I'm not concussed, alright," Sam's eyes narrowed at the guy and yeah, judging from the fiery spark in his brother's eyes, Dean could tell that he was feeling better, already.

Never one to be easily appeased, O'Boyle's face hardened.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, huh, kid?"

"I'm not a kid."

Oh yeah, Sam was feeling better alright.

Dean barely managed to hide a grin.

"How many fingers—"

"Two, alright? And earlier it was four," Sam gave back grouchily, trying for a bitchface and not mustering the strength to pull through with it.

"Give it a rest, Sammy. You look like you need to take a dump," Dean teased from the side, relishing the way his little brother sputtered and blushed in response, shooting him a dark glower over the veteran's shoulder.

"Anybody ever tell you, that you're idiots?" O'Boyle said good-naturedly and Dean held Sam's gaze for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the same spark of fond reminiscence in his brother's eyes that he knew was reflected in his own.

"We've been told once or twice before," Dean grinned, feeling more like himself now that Sam was finally back with him, alive and safe and healthy enough to be pissed about some stranger calling him a kid.

"Think you can hold some grub down? I've got a few cans of soup in the cabinet somewhere…"

Sam nodded tentatively, probably just trying to get rid of O'Boyle, (that little shit).

And Dean cleared his throat only a second or two after the doctor had left, signaling for Cas to follow the older man's shining example and give them some time to talk.

"I think I should go to uh… help with the soup."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean flashed Cas one of his grins- the one's that meant he'd gotten his mind and then turned back around to Sam, once the door had fallen into the lock behind the angel.

Sam blinked and toyed with his blanket, looking lost and a little scared in the nest of blankets and pillows O'Boyle had swathed him in.

"So... you feeling okay?"

Sam nodded. "Little banged up, but uh… much better than before, I guess."

Dean took a deep breath and looked down at his lap, trying to find the right words.

Where should he even start? It seemed like there were so many things they needed to talk about, here… so many unresolved issues to address.

"Dean, listen," Sam bit his lower lip and gulped, looking so freaking nervous as he fumbled with the stupid blanket- like he couldn't openly speak his mind in front of Dean- like they had broken something irreparably between them and could no longer communicate as brothers.

Dean swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up and down in a slow catch and drag.

"I meant to tell you the truth, I swear I did," Sam forced out in a rush, words running together in his hurry to get them out. Sam looked up and Dean felt his throat constrict at the fresh tears shining back at him from his little brother's guilt-filled gaze. "I didn't know he was going to sell it. If I'd known he was going to sell it, I would have never allowed him to take it."

"Sam—"

"I mean I'd have still wanted to save you, regardless of that. But you have to believe me that I didn't know his true intentions or I'd have—"

"Sammy, stop it," Dean cut his brother off in a voice that meant business. He held Sam's gaze until the younger man's shoulder dropped in defeat, face taking on the expression of a kicked puppy on Sam's face and letting out a long-suffering sigh.

There was more silence and then Sam's lips quivered.

God, his brother was such a drama queen.

"Okay, where do I even start?" Dean let out a humorless huff, baring his teeth a little as he looked up at the stained ceiling. A couple of hours ago he would have done anything to get Sam to wake up and now that his brother was finally walking and talking again, he had no goddamn clue what to say to him. Or how to put all of his thoughts and feelings into coherent sentences.

He knew that Sammy needed to be handled delicately right now.

And maybe that was the hardest part of it.

Because between Sam and him, they never had to dance around each other when it came to expressing their feelings.

Most of the time, they just knew what the other was feeling; recognizing simple indicators such as tone of voice or the slightest shift in facial expression.

But this time, Dean was insecure and clueless about Sam's emotional state. He didn't know why Sam had thought- honest to god assumed- that his brother wouldn't drop everything and come running for help the second Sam told him what Benny had done to him.

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again like a fish gasping for water.

Then he looked down at his hands, taking a shaky breath and gathering the courage for what came next.

"You're not a letdown, Sammy."

Wow, okay.

He hadn't exactly meant to haul out the big guns straight away, but the words Sam had muttered to him in his fever-induced panic had gripped Dean's heart tight and never really let go.

Sam's lips did that little twitchy thing that meant he was upset and confused.

"O-okay…" he said in a quiet voice, phrasing the simple word almost hesitantly and with no small amount of surprise. Dean could've slapped himself for his bluntness. The kid probably didn't even remember what he had muttered the day before, he had been so out of it.

"Look at me," Dean commanded and watched Sam's fingers still against the cover of the blankets. The younger man hesitantly lifted shy hazel eyes to meet Dean's intense gaze and swallowed. "I know we haven't exactly been on the best of terms in the past couple of weeks…"

Sam snorted softly.

Yeah, understatement of the century.

"Alright, maybe we've been at each other's throat lately. And I know a big part of that was my fault for acting like an ass half the time, but Sammy…" Dean's eyes went soft with emotion as he tried to convey all the feelings warring in his chest. "How could keep the fact that someone was torturing you- taking your goddamn blood- from me?"

Sam licked his lips and blinked a couple of times and Dean felt his heart clench in pain at the hurt he saw in his brother's eyes.

"I didn't want to lose you again… I just—" Sam's voice broke and he looked away, his composure threatening to crumble like a sand castle in a thunderstorm. Then, almost too quiet for Dean's ears, Sam whispered: "I was doing it to save you."

"Yeah but I didn't need saving, Sam!" Dean snapped, the thought that his baby brother had once again sacrificed his own well-being- his own life- for the sake of saving Dean's was unbearable and making him irrationally angry. "I mean did you miss the fact that I had already come back from Purgatory, alive and kicking? What the hell did you think he was going to do- zap me back with a flip of his fingers? He was a goddamn vampire, Sam- not an archangel!"

Sam winced from the blow the words packed, eyes growing wide at his brother's tone of voice.

He flinched back into the pillows, looking like a scared four-year-old that had been caught red-handed with his tiny hands stuck in the cookie jar. And god, but Dean was so tired of this. Why couldn't things between them be easier? Why couldn't they go back to the way things used to be when they were both younger and trusted one another without thought or hesitation?

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, sounding wrecked and Dean thought he might bust a vein or something.

"I don't want you to be sorry, Sam! I want you to stop throwing yourself into the fucking fire for me first chance you get just because some sadistic asshole is using me against you! Don't you see a goddamn pattern in all of this? We can't keep going on like this!"

The words flicked some kind of invisible switch in Sam's head because the next second, his expression morphed from one of guilt and self-loathing to incredulity.

"We can't keep going like this? _Seriously_?" Sam huffed out a breath in that smug little way that always made Dean want to swat him up his head. "Now you're just being a damn hypocrite, Dean. Don't you dare stand there and tell me you wouldn't have done the same fucking thing for me if our roles had been reversed."

"No, I damn fucking well wouldn't, Sam," Dean spat out angrily, pointing a finger at his brother's chest for emphasis. "You wanna know why that is? Because I check my fucking facts before I run off to do something incredibly stupid like giving all my goddamn blood to some piece of shit fang!"

"Like you checked the fact that Benny was one of the good guys?" Sam shot back without as much of a second's hesitation and Dean's eyes widened.

He swallowed thickly, the words sending him back on his heels.

Sam's expression went soft with regret the next second, almost like he knew how much damage he'd just caused with them, even if it didn't make them less true.

He opened his mouth- doubtlessly trying to apologize- but Dean just held up a hand, not giving him a chance to stammer out an excuse.

"You're right…" Dean nodded, flashing Sam a smile that was raw guilt and self-loathing. "Guess I really took the cake with that lapse in judgment, huh?"

"Dean—"

"I really thought he was a friend, you know?" Dean snorted, feeling disgusted with himself- an experienced hunter like him- falling for the dark and evil schemes of yet another manipulative son of a bitch. "Guess I was just too fucking dumb to see him for what he really was…"

"Dean, it's not your fault… you couldn't have known."

"Well, I damn well should have."

Sam sighed, slumping a little further into the pillows. "He was manipulating us both. Just in different ways."

"Yeah, wouldn't be the first time that happened, either," Dean said bitterly, for once glad that their parents were no longer around to witness the epic mess-ups of their sons.

"When we were in purgatory… he was just… there for me, you know?"

Sam swallowed, averting hi gaze like the words were too much to bear- like he didn't want to hear them. Dean knew his brother had felt some sort of misplaced jealousy over Dean's friendship with Benny and Dean had strived in it at the time, teasing Sam with it by calling Benny his family- his brother. But it hadn't all been for show.

"Benny saved my life time and time again. He did the same for Cas. We had one another's backs… and sometimes when we would sit around the fireplace, keeping vigil, we exchanged a few words about our life topsides… about the things, we missed- like a juicy stake… coffee… no-strings-attached sex."

Sam snorted at that because only Dean would start a conversation about his sexual exploitations with a vampire and an angel in purgatory. That shit sounded like the beginning of some lame-ass joke.

"He wasn't exactly the care-and-share kinda guy but it was nice having someone to talk to you at the time- a willing ear to listen, you know? In a way, these conversations were what kept me sane down there. I never knew... I mean there were no signs that he was—"

_A goddamn monster._

Sam gave a curt nod, jaw clenched tight with tension at the way Dean opened up about his time in Purgatory. It wasn't exactly like they'd ever talked about this before. Dean had been too busy yelling at Sam and shooting him death glowers to actually talk to his brother.

"I'm glad," Sam croaked out eventually, trying to put on a smile for Dean's sake. It was a frail thing- quivering weakly on his lips. "If the only good thing that came of this was that I got you back from Purgatory, it was worth it to me."

Dean's throat constricted at Sam's heartfelt admission. He knew his brother wasn't lying.

That was Sam Winchester for you. Getting tortured at the hands of the vampire Dean had been best buddies with and still trying to see the good in that bastard.

"It wasn't Benny who got me through Purgatory," Dean gently persisted, because sure, Benny had been the one to tell them about the ritual- he had been the one to show them all the technicalities of how to get out of that particular shithole, but in the end Dean's survival instinct had been triggered long before he even met Benny.

"I mean, yeah, he saved my ass a couple of times down there," Dean shrugged, trying not to think about how Benny did it with ulterior move in mind. "But Benny wasn't the reason I slaughtered my way through that hell, alright? He wasn't the reason I kept fighting. He wasn't the last goddamn thing I thought about before going to bed and the first thing on my mind when I woke up."

Sam's eyes filled and he sniffed, already knowing where Dean was going with this.

His eyes were filled with so much raw hurt and it pained Dean to know that he was the reason for it- that he was the one who let his brother believe that a damn vampire was more important to him than his own family.

"Was it busty Asian beauties?" Sam suggested with a watery laugh, nervously trying to break the tension and to keep Dean from taking this any further, probably because he knew he wouldn't be able to rein it all in once the floodgates opened. "Anime porn or cheeseburgers?"

"Better," Dean quirked a smile.

"Better than cheeseburgers?" Sam laughed and Dean pretended to ignore the one tear that slipped down his brother's slightly flushed cheeks, knowing Sam was clinging onto his composure with every ounce of power he had left inside.

"Better than pie," Dean took their little game even one step further, feeling an invisible weight being lifted from his heart at the way Sam's hazel eyes filled with a bit of happiness at their playful banter.

"Okay, now I know you're lying," Sam tried to hide his smile and failed.

Dean counted it a win. He'd always measured his success in Sam's happiness.

He hadn't even realized how much he'd missed to shoot mindless jokes back and forth like this- to be affectionate in his tone of voice and the exchange of meaningful looks between them- until just now. He needed this as much as he needed air to breathe. Needed for Sammy to laugh at him and throw him disapproving looks and shove his shoulder in when they walked on the sidewalk.

"You wanna know what I thought of- what really kept me going down there?" Dean asked, expression growing serious again as he watched the relieved smile on Sam's face slowly vanish.

Yeah, this time, he wouldn't leave things unfinished.

Sam needed to hear this.

"The Impala?" Sam tried for another joke but it fell flat.

"It was you, Sam," Dean admitted softly, bumping Sam's leg beneath the hospital blankets as if to say _'Duh! Idiot. Of course, it was you'._

"Benny was just a weak substitute for the brother I really needed."

Sam twisted the linen in his fingers, whole face scrunching up in a deep-rooted hurt that had only managed to foster over the weeks they'd grown more and more distanced with each other.

"Amelia was a lie. I never even met her."

Dean let out a slow breath. "Yeah, I figured…"

"How could you think I'd just not look for you, you stupid jerk?"

Okay, that was unexpected.

Sam's breathing was heavy and the tears blurring his accusatory stare, were only adding to the guilt in Dean's chest- were tearing right through all of Dean's defenses and hitting him in his stupid heart. "I tore the entire library apart, trying to find some kind of spell to bring you back, I went to the crossroads—"

"Sam—"

"Don't even bother giving me hell for that," Sam snorted angrily. "It's not like any of these goddamn demons would have helped me, anyway! I did look for you, Dean! Of course, I did. Don't you think you were the first thing on my mind when I woke up? Or the last goddamn thing I'd thought about when I hauled my drunk ass to bed? I was _devastated_ after you left!"

Dean swallowed.

He never wanted for Sam to be _devastated_.

And the goddamn last thing he'd ever want for his little brother was to make a deal for Dean's soul.

He had just wanted to be _missed_… for Sam to give a damn about his death.

It had hurt to think that Sam was getting over him so quickly- that his little brother had been so independent that the loss of Dean had merely enabled him to pursue his personal dreams instead of leaving him the broken, tumbling mess Dean would have been in Sam's shoes.

It was like a confirmation of all of Dean's worst fears.

A confirmation of the fact that his family- and all above, Sam, of course- had never really needed Dean as much as he needed them.

And the one crucial aspect of Dean's screwed up personality- the one thing that rarely anyone ever seemed to notice- was that Dean needed to be_ needed_ by Sam.

That tiny glimpse of hero-worship his brother sometimes still showed, that residual bit of absolute trust and love and friendship Sam had always held for him, was what kept Dean sane. And it made him feel vulnerable and fucking stupid to expect that from his overgrown thirty-year-old brother but was something that was never going to change.

Dean didn't want to live without Sam.

And the fact that Sam could, was a tough pill to swallow.

"I left no goddamn stone unturned to find you, Dean! Did you seriously think I was going to run off with some girl without even knowing what happened to you? Without as much as trying to find you?"

Sam had left Dean before. With little care to how Dean felt about it.

Sam had always known what he wanted in life and he'd never been afraid to fight for his dreams. It had been something Dean loathed about his brother- maybe even something he begrudged him for because deep down Dean knew he didn't have it in himself to do the same.

"Guess we were both just being spectacularly stupid," Dean sighed, looking a little sheepish, but Sam wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.

"Dean, you're my brother. I told you this before, but there's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for you."

"I know," Dean returned automatically, because yeah, he did know that. Sometimes it just took a little reminder to drive the meaning of that home. "I know that, Sammy."

"Good," Sam nodded, jaw locked in determination.

"And since we're already in the middle of yet another chick-flick, I'm just going to throw this out there… you are NOT evil, Sam. Just because our lives have been crappy, doesn't make you one of the bad guys, alright. If anything, the fact that our lives have been orchestrated by evil, should make the fact that we're still fighting the good fight more valuable."

Sam looked taken aback- mortified almost- but Dean just plowed forward, wanting to eradicate any doubt about his own goodness from Sam's mind and heart, once and for all.

"Now I know we've both got issues. And hell, after everything we've been through, I believe we're fucking entitled to be a little screwed in the head. But I've been there with you every goddamn step along the way- I've seen you get addicted to demon blood, and following that bitch Ruby and starting the acopalypse—"

"_Dean_."

Dean lifted his palms almost apologetically, knowing these were still sore topics for his brother.

"Look, just saying, alright? I've seen you go through all of that and come out of it stronger- smarter than before. I've seen you lose hope and faith and even confidence. But I have never ever seen you lose your humanity."

Sam pressed his lips together and Dean could tell how much his brother needed this- realizing he should have told Sam much earlier what came next.

"All I see when I look at you—all I ever saw when I looked at you—is my little kid brother. That floppy-haired, snot-nosed brat that would follow me around all the time, asking me stupid questions. That awkward teenage boy that would ask me for advice with the ladies. The smart guy that got into Stanford with a full-ride because he was just that level of geek… The guy that locked himself in a cage with the devil just so the freaking globe could keep on spinning. I look at you and I feel nothing but pride for the man you've turned into. You're _good_, Sam. You're as good as they fucking come, you hear me? And there's nothing you could ever say or do to convince me of the opposite."

Sam's expression crumbled and even though Dean should have really, really seen it coming- he still found himself surprised when Sam shot forward to wrap his gangly octopus arms around his older brother and held onto him for dear life.

His shoulders shook and his breathing was ragged, but Dean just hugged Sam back and pretended not to feel the warm wetness against his shoulder. "Such a girl."

"S-shut up," Sam hiccupped and Dean smiled softly.

"There're a couple of things you still need to explain to me, you know," Dean softly teased, a grin growing on his lips. "Like why the hell did you come up with such a lame-assed name for your fantasy chick? I mean- _Amelia_? Couldn't you at least try to make her sound interesting so I didn't feel like you dumped my sorry ass for some frigid librarian?"

"Veterinarian," Sam corrected softly, letting out a wet chuckle. "I hit a dog, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's right. You left me to rot for some boring chick AND a dirty fleabag."

"Would you have believed me if I told you I'd run off with some stripper named Candy?" Sam challenged with a skeptical frown, before sinking back into the pillows with a yawn.

"No you're right, that sounds more like me," Dean softly laughed and shook his head, feeling like every piece of whatever had been broken between them was slowly but surely slipping back into place- feeling whole again now that they had talked- happily soaking in his brother's smile and the healthy tinge of color returning to his face.

"Jerk," Sam muttered sleepily, smiling back up at Dean with that same sense of relief in his hazel eyes- the same twinkle of gratitude for having restored a piece of their brotherhood.

"Bitch," Dean smirked.

They were going to be fine.

As long as they had each other, they were going to be just fine.

It was all they had ever needed, after all.

**FIN.  
**

* * *

_I'm sorry this took half a year, guys. I know "sorry" doesn't even cut it at this point, but I needed to take a bit of a break from writing and the longer I stayed away from this fic the harder it was to get back into it. Anyway, I've said most of it in my author's note at the top, but I couldn't me more grateful for all of your patience and support! I sincerely hope you enjoyed the ending! Please drop me a final note if you can spare a few seconds of your time! Reviews always make my day. THANK YOU, GUYS! Xoxo_


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